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FROM THE 



OAK TO THE OLIVE. 



A Plain Record of a Pleasant Journey. 



BY 



JULIA WARD HOWE. 




BOSTON: 
LEE AND SHEPARD 

1868. 



Na> h 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the 3 T ear 1868, by 

JULIA WARD HOWE, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



try 



STEREOTYPED AT THE 

BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY, 

19 Spring Lane. 



TO 



S. G. H., 



THE STRENUOUS CHAMPION OF GREEK LIBERTY 
AND OF HUMAN RIGHTS, 

IS OFFEEED SUCH SMALL HOMAGE AS THE 

DEDICATION OF THIS VOLUME 

CAN CONFER. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Preliminaries i 

The Voyage.- 3 

Liverpool. 9 

Chester — Lichfield. . . 11 

London. ...... a ... 17 

St. Paul's — The Japanese. . . . . . .23 

Society. . . 28 

The Channel 36 

Paris and Thence. 37 

Marseilles 42 

Rome. 45 

St. Peter's . . 50 

Supper of the Pilgrims. 55 

Easter . 58 

Works of Art. 60 

Piazza Navona — The Tombola. . . . . . 65 

Sundays in Rome. . 70 

Catacombs. . -74 

Via Appia and the Columbaria. . . . . . 81 

Naples — The Journey. ....... 88 

The Museum 92 



VI CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Naples — Excursions. 96 

The Capuchin. 102 

Baja. . . . . . 106 

Capri. no 

Sorrento 119 

Florence. 122 

Palazzo Pitti 124 

Venice 133 

Greece and the Voyage thither. . . . . 153 

Syra. 164 

Piraeus — Athens 169 

Expeditions — Nauplia 175 

Argos 183 

Egina. 196 

Days in Athens. . 198 

Excursions 205 

Hymettus 214 

Items. . . 221 

The Palace. . 222 

The Cathedral 227 

The Missionaries. 231 

The Piazza 234 

Departure. 237 

Return Voyage 239 

Farther 249 

Fragments 253 

Flying Footsteps 270 

Munich 275 

Switzerland 284 

The Great Exposition. 290 

Pictures in Antwerp 299 



FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 



Preliminaries. 



Not being, at this moment, in the pay of any press, 
whether foreign or domestic, I will not, at this my 
third landing in English country, be ill haste to accom- 
plish the correspondent's office of extroversion, and to 
expose all the inner processes of thought and of nature 
to the gaze of an imaginary public, often, alas ! a delu- 
sory one, and difficult to be met with. No individual 
editor, nor joint stock company, bespoke my emotions 
before my departure. I am, therefore, under no obliga- 
tion to furnish for the market, with the elements of 
time and of postage unhandsomely curtailed. Instead, 
then, of that breathless steeple chase after the butterfly 
of the moment, with whose risks and hurry I am inti- 
mately acquainted, I feel myself enabled to look around 
me at every step which I shall take on paper, and to 
represent, in my small literary operations, the three 
dimensions of time, instead of the flat disc of the 
present. 

And first as to my pronoun. The augmentative We 

(1) 



2 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

is essential for newspaper writing, because people are 
liable to be horsewhipped for what they put in the 
sacred columns of a daily journal. We may represent 
a vague number of individuals, less inviting to, and 
safer from, the cowhide, than the provoking egomet 
ipse. Or perhaps the We derives from the New Testa- 
ment incorporation of devils, whose name w r as legion, 
for we are many. In the Fichtean philosophy, also, 
there are three pronouns comprised in the personal 
unity w 7 hose corporeal effort applies this pen to this 
paper, to wit, the /absolute, the I limited, and the I 
resulting from the union of these two. So that a phi- 
losopher may say we as w r ell as a monarch or a penny- 
a-liner. Yet I, at the present moment, incline to fall 
back upon my record of baptism, and to confront the 
white sheet, whose blankness I trust to overcome, in 
the character of an agent one and indivisible. 

Nor let it be supposed that these preliminary remarks 
undervalue the merits and dignity of those who write 
for ready money, whose meals and travels are at the 
expense of mysterious corporations, the very cocktail 
which fringes their daily experience being thrown in as 
a brightener of their wits and fancies. Thus would I, 
too, have written, had anybody ordered me to do so. 
I can hurry up my hot cakes like another, when there 
is any one to pay for them. But, leisure being accord- 
ed me, I shall stand with my tablets in the market- 
place, hoping in the end to receive my penny, upon a 
footing of equality with those who have borne the bur- 
den and heat of the day. 



THE VOYAGE. 3 

With the rights of translation, however, already 
arranged for in the Russian, Sclavonian, Hindustanee, 
and Fijian dialects, I reserve to myself the right to con- 
vert my pronoun, and to write a chapter in we when- 
ever the individual / shall seem to be insufficient. 
With these little points agreed upon beforehand, to 
prevent mistakes, — since a book always represents a 
bargain, — I will enter, without further delay, upon 
what I intend as a very brief but cogent chronicle of 
a third visit to Europe, the first two having attained no 
personal record. 

The Voyage. 

The steamer voyage is now become a fact so trite and 
familiar as to call for no special illustration at these 
or any other hands. Yet voyages and lives resemble 
each other in many particulars, and differ in as many 
others. Ours proves almost unprecedented for smooth- 
ness, as well as for safety. We start on the fatal 
Wednesday, as twice before, expecting the fatal pang. 
Our last vicarious purchase on shore was a box of 
that energetic mustard, so useful as a counter-irritant 
in cases of internal commotion. The bitter partings 
are over, the dear ones heartily commended to Heaven, 
we see, as in a dream, the figure of command mount- 
ed upon the paddle-box. We cling to a camp stool 
near the red smoke-stack, and cruelly murmur to the 
two rosy neophytes who are our companions, " In 
five minutes you will be more unhappy than you ever 
were or ever dreamed of being." They reply with 



4 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

sweet, unconscious looks of wonder, that ignorance of 
danger which the recruit carries into his first battle, 
or which carries him into it. But five minutes pass, 
and twelve times five, and the moment for going below 
does not come. In the expected shape, in fact, it does 
not arrive at all. We do not resolve upon locomotion, 
nor venture into the dining saloon ; but leaning back 
upon a borrowed chaise longue, we receive hurried 
and fragmentary instalments of victuals, and discuss 
with an improvised acquaintance the aspects of for- 
eign and domestic travel. The plunge into the state- 
room at bedtime, and the crawl into the narrow berth, 
are not without their direr features, which the sea- 
smells and confined air aggravate. We hear bad 
accounts of A, B, and C, but our neophytes patrol the 
deck to the last moment, and rise from their dive, on 
the second morning, fresher than ever. 

Our steamer is an old one, but a favorite, and as 
steady as a Massachusetts matron of forty. Our captain 
is a kindly old sea-dog, who understands his business, 
and does not mind much else. To the innocent flat- 
teries of the neophytes he opposes a resolute front. They 
will forget him, he says, as soon as they touch land. 
They protest that they will not, and assure him that he 
shall breakfast, dine, and sup with them in Boston, six 
months hence, and that he shall always remain their 
sole, single, and ideal captain ; at all of which he 
laughs as grimly as Jove is said to do at lovers' per- 
juries. 

Our company is a small one, after the debarkation 



THE VOYAGE. 5 

at Halifax, where sixty-five passengers leave us, — 
among whom are some of the most strenuous euchre- 
ists. The remaining thirty-six are composed partly of 
our own country people, — of whom praise or blame 
would be impertinent in this connection, — partly of 
the Anglo-Saxon of the day, in the pre-puritan variety. 
Of the latter, as of the former, we will waive all dis- 
criminating mention, having porrigated to them the 
dexter of good-will, with no hint of aboriginal toma- 
hawks to be exhumed hereafter. Some traits, however, 
of the Anglais de voyage, as seen on his return from 
an American trip, may be vaguely given, without per- 
sonality or fear of offence. 

The higher in grade the culture of the European 
traveller in America, the more reverently does he speak 
of what he has seen and learned. To the gentle- 
hearted, childhood and its defects are no less sacred 
than age and its decrepitude ; withal, much dearer, 
because full of hope and of promise. The French bar- 
ber sneezes out " Paris "at every step taken on the 
new land. That is the utmost his ratiocination can do ; 
he can perceive that Boston, Washington, Chicago, are 
not Paris. The French exquisite flirts, flatters the indi- 
vidual, and depreciates the commonwealth. The Eng- 
lish bagman hazards the glibbest sentences as to th :■ 
falsity of the whole American foundation. Not much 
behind him lags the fox-hunting squire. The folly and 
uselessness of our late war supply the theme of dia- 
tribes as eloquent as twenty-Jive letters can make them. 
Obliging apergus of the degradation and misery in 



FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE, 



But 



store for us are vouchsafed at every opportunity. B 
it is when primogeniture is touched upon, or the neu- 
trality of England in the late war criticised, that the 
bellowing of the sacred bulls becomes a brazen thunder. 
After listening to their voluminous complaints of the 
shortcomings of western civilization, we are tempted 
to go back to a set of questions asked and answered 
many centuries ago. 

" What went ye out into the wilderness for to see? A 
man clothed in soft raiment? Behold, they that live 
delicately dwell in kings' houses. But what went ye 
out for to see? A prophet? Yea, I say unto you, And 
more than a prophet." For the prophet only foretells 
what is to be, but the prophetic nation is working out 
and fulfilling the prophet's future. 

Peace, however, peace between us and them. Let 
the bagman return to his business, the squire to his five- 
barred gate. We wish them nothing worse than to 
stay at home, once they have got there. Not thus do 
the Goldwin Smiths, the Liulph Stanleys, take the 
altitude of things under a new horizon. They have 
those tools and appliances of scientific thought which 
build just theories and strait conclusions. The imper- 
fection and the value of human phenomena are too 
well understood by them to allow them to place all of 
the values in the old world, and all of the imperfections 
in the new. And, apropos of this, we have an anti- 
dote to all the poison of gratuitous malignity in the 
shape of M. Auguste Laugel's thorough and apprecia- 
tive treatise entitled The United States during the 



THE VOYAGE. J 

War. From depths of misconception which we can- 
not fathom we turn to his pages, and see the truths of 
our record and of our conviction set forth with a sim- 
plicity and elegance which should give his work a per- 
manent value. To Americans it must be dear as a 
righteous judgment ; to Europeans as a vindication of 
their power of judging. 

It must not, however, be supposed that our whole 
tr aver see is a squabble, open or suppressed, between 
nationalities which should contend only in good will. 
The dreamy sea-days bring, on the contrary, much so- 
cial chat and comfort. Two of the Britons exercise hos- 
pitality of tea, of fresh butter, of drinks cunningly com- 
pounded. One of these glows at night like a smelting 
furnace, and goes about humming in privileged ears, 
u The great brew is about to begin." For this same 
great brew he ties a white apron before his stout per- 
son, breaks ten eggs into a bowl, inflicting flagellation 
on the same, empties as many bottles of ale in a tin 
pan, and flies off to the galley, whence he returns with 
a smoking, frothing mixture, which is dispensed in 
tumblers, and much appreciated by the recipients. In 
good fellowship these two Britons are not deficient, 
and the restriction of the alphabet, dimly alluded to 
above, does not lie at their door. 

After rocking, and dreaming, and tumbling ; after 
drowsy attempts to get hold of other people's ideas and 
to disentangle your own ; after a week's wonder over 
the hot suppers of such as dine copiously at four P. M., 
and the morning cocktails of those who drink whiskey 



3 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

in all its varieties before we separate for the night ; after 
repeated experiments, which end by suiting our gait and 
diet to an ever-mobile existence, in which our preju- 
dices are the only stable points, our personal restraints 
the only fixed facts, — we fairly reach the other side. 
The earliest terrene object which we behold is a light- 
house some sixty miles out at sea, whose occupants, we 
hope, are not resolutely bent upon social enjoyment. 
Here the sending up of blue lights and rockets gives 
us a cheerful sense of some one besides ourselves. 
Queenstown, our next point, is made at two A. M., 
and left after weary waiting for the pilot, but still 
before convenient hours for being up. Some hours 
later we heave the lead, and enjoy the sight of as much 
terra Jirma as can be fished up on the greased end of 
the same. Our last day on board is marred by a heavy 
and penetrating fog. We are in the Channel, but can 
see neither shore. In the early morning w T e arrive at 
Liverpool, and, after one more of those good breakfasts, 
and a mild encounter with the custom-house officers, we 
part from our late home, its mingled associations and 
associates to be recalled hereafter with various shades of 
regard and regret. The good captain, having been with- 
out sleep for two nights, does not come to take leave of 
us — a neglect which almost moves the neophytes to 
tears. The two-veterans console them, however; and 
now all parties are in the little lighter which carries the 
steamer's passengers and luggage to the dock. Here, 
three shillings' worth of cab and horse convey us and 
ours, a respectable show of trunks, to the hotel of our 



LIVERPOOL. 9 

choice - — the Washington by name. We commend 
this cheapness of conveyance, a novel feature in Amer- 
ican experience. At the hotel we find a comfortable 
parlor, and, for the first time in many days, part from 
our wrappings. After losing ourselves among the 
Egyptian china of our toilet set, wondering at the 
width of beds and warmth of carpets, we descend to 
the coffee-room, order dinner, and feel that we have 
again taken possession of ourselves. 

Liverpool. 

A good deal of our time here is spent in the prosaic 
but vital occupation of getting something to eat. If 
Nature abhors a vacuum, she does so especially when, 
after twelve days of a fluctuating and predatory exist- 
ence, the well-shaken traveller at last finds a stable 
foundation for self and victuals. The Washington be- 
ing announced as organized on the American plan, we 
descend to the coffee-room with the same happy confi- 
dence which would characterize our first appearance 
at the buffet of the Tremont House or Fifth Avenue 
Hotel. But here no waiter takes possession of you and 
your wants, hastening to administer both to the mutual 
advantage of guest and landlord. You sit long unno- 
ticed ; you attract attention only by a desperate effort. 
Having at length secured the medium through which 
a dinner may be ordered, the minister (he wears a black 
dress coat and white trimmings) disappears with an air 
of " Will you have it now, or wait till you can get it?" 
which our subsequent experience entirely justifies. We 



IO FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

learn later that a meal ordered half an hour beforehand 
will be punctually served. 

And here, except in cases of absolute starvation, we 
shall dismiss the meal question altogether, and devote 
ourselves to nobler themes. We ransack the smoky 
and commercial city in search of objects of interest. 
The weather being incessantly showery, we lay the 
foundation of our English liberty in the purchase of 
two umbrellas, capable each of protecting two heads. 
Of clothes we must henceforward be regardless. In 
the streets, barefooted beggary strikes us, running along 
in the wet, whining and coaxing. We visit the boasted 
St. George's Hall, where, among other statues, is one of 
the distinguished Stephenson, of railroad memory. Here 
the court is in session for the assizes. The wigs and 
gowns astound the neophytes. The ushers in green and 
orange livery shriek "Silence !" through every sentence 
of judge or counsel. No one can hear what is going 
on. Probably all is known beforehand. At the hotel, 
the Greek committee wait upon the veteran, with assev- 
erations and hiccoughings of to us incomprehensible 
emotions. We resist the theatre, with the programme 
of " Lost in London," expecting soon to experience the 
sensation without artistic intervention. We sleep, miss- 
ing the cradle of the deep, and on the morrow, by means 
of an uncanny little ferry-boat, reach the Birkenhead 
station, and are booked for Chester. 



chester lichfield. 1 1 

Chester — Lichfield. 

The Grosvenor Inn receives us, not at all in the fash- 
ion of the hostelry of twenty years ago. A new and 
spacious building forming a quadrangle around a small 
open garden, the style highly architectural and some- 
what inconvenient ; waiters got up after fashion plates ; 
chambermaids with apologetic caps, not smaller than a 
dime nor larger than a dinner plate; a handsome sit- 
ting-room, difficult to warm ; airy sleeping-rooms ; a 
coffee-room in which our hunger and cold seek food 
and shelter ; a housekeeper in a striped silk gown, — 
these are the first features with which we become famil- 
iar at the Grosvenor. The veteran falling ill detains us 
there for the better part of two days ; and we employ 
the interim of his and our necessities in exploring the 
curious old town, with its many relics of times long 
distant. The neophytes here see their first cathedral, 
and are in raptures with nothing so much as with its 
dilapidation. We happen in during the afternoon hour 
of cathedral service, and the sexton, finding that w r e 
do not ask for seats, fastens upon us with the zeal of 
a starved leech upon a fresh patient, and leads us as 
weary a dance as Puck led the Athenian clowns. This 
chase after antiquity proves to have something unsub- 
stantial about it. The object is really long dead and 
done with. These ancient buildings are only its exter- 
nal skeleton, the empty shell of the tortoise. No effort 
of imagination can show us how people felt when these 
dark passages and deserted enclosures were full of 



12 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

the arterial warmth and current of human life. Th< 
monumental tablets tell an impossible tale. The im- 
mortal spirit of things, which is past, present, and 
future, dwells not in these relics, but lives in the de- 
scent of noble thoughts, in the perpetuity of moral effort 
which makes man human. We make these reflections 
shivering, w T hile the neophytes explore nave and tran- 
sept, gallery and crypt. A long tale does the old sexton 
tell, to which they listen with ever-wondering expecta- 
tion. Meantime the cold cathedral service has ended. 
Canon, precentor, and choir have departed, with the 
very slender lay attendance. In a commodious apart- 
ment, by a bright fire, we recover our frozen joints a 
little. Here stands a full-length portrait of his most 
gracious etc., etc. The sexton, preparing for a huge 
jest, says to us, " Ladies, this represents the last king 
of America." The most curious thing we see in the 
cathedral is the room in which the ecclesiastical court 
held its sittings. The judges' seat and the high-backed 
benches still form a quadrangular enclosure within a 
room of the same shape. Across one corner of this 
enclosure is mounted a chair, on which the prisoner, 
accused of the intangible offence of heresy or witch- 
craft, was perforce seated. I seem to see there a face 
and figure not unlike my own, the brow seamed with 
cabalistic wrinkles. Add a little queerness to the trav- 
elling dress, a pinch or two to the black bonnet, and 
how easy were it to make a witch out of the sibyl of 
these present leaves ! The march from one of these 
types to the other is one of those retrograde steps whose 



CHESTER LICHFIELD. 13 

contrast only attests the world's progress. The sibyl- 
line was an excellent career for a queer and unexplained 
old woman. To make her a sorceress was an ingenious 
device for getting rid of a much-decried element of the 
social variety. Poor Kepler's years of solitary glory 
and poverty were made more wretched by the danger 
which constantly threatened his aged mother, who was 
in imminent danger of burning, on account of her sup- 
posed occult intelligences with the powers of darkness. 

After a long and chilly wandering, we dismiss our 
voluble guide with a guerdon which certainly sends him 
home to keep a silver wedding with his ancient wife. 
The next day, the veteran's illness detained us within 
the ancient city, and we contemplated at some leisure 
its quaint old houses, which in Boston would not stand 
five days. They have been much propped and cher- 
ished, and the new architecture of the town does its 
best to continue the traditions of the old. The Guide 
to Chester, in which we regretfully invest a shilling, 
presents a list of objects of interest which a week would 
not more than exhaust. One of these — the Roodeye — 
is an extensive meadow with a silly legend, and is now 
utilized as a race-course. We see the winning post, the 
graduated seats, the track. For the rest, — 

" The Spanish fleet thou canst not see, because 
It is not yet in sight." 

We visit the outside of a tiny church of ancient renown, 
— St. Olave's, — but, dreading the eternal sexton with 
the eternal story, we do not attempt to effect an entrance. 



14 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

The much-famed Roman bath we find in connection 
with a shop at which newspapers are sold. We descend 
a narrow staircase, and view much rubbish in a small 
space. For description, see Chester Guide. One of 
our party gets into the bath, and comes out none the 
cleaner. Spleen apart, however, the ruin is probably 
authentic, with its deep spring and worn arches. Near 
the Grosvenor Hotel is a curious arcade, built in a part 
of the old wall — for Chester was a fortified place. A 
portion of the old castle still stands, but we fail to visit 
its interior. The third morning sees us depart, having 
been quite comfortably entertained at the Grosvenor, 
even to the indulgence of sweetmeats with our tea, 
which American extravagance we propose speedily to 
abjure. Our national sins, however, still cling to us. 

Although the servants are " put in the bill," the crin- 
ging civility with which they follow us to the coach leads 
me to suspect that the nimble sixpence might find its 
way to their acceptance without too severe a gymnastic. 
En route, now, in a comfortable compartment, with hot 
water to our feet, according to the European custom. 
Our way to Lichfield lies through an agricultural region, 
and the fine English mutton appear to be forward. 
Small lambs cuddle near magnificent fat mothers. The 
wide domains lie open to the view. Everything attests 
the concentration of landed property in the hands of 
the few. We stop at Lichfield, attracted by the famous 
cathedral. The Swan Inn receives, but cannot make us 
comfortable, a violent wind sweeping through walls 
and windows. Having eaten and drunk, we implore 



CHESTER LICHFIELD. 1 5 

our way to the cathedral, St. Chadde, which we find 
beautiful without, and magnificently restored within. 
Many monuments, ancient and modern, adorn it, with 
epitaphs of Latin in every stage of plagiarism. A 
costly monument to some hero of the Sutlej war chal- 
lenges attention, with its tame and polished modern 
sphinxes. Tombs of ancient abbots we also find, and 
one recumbent carving of a starved and shrunken figure, 
whose leanness attests some ascetic period not famous 
in sculpture. The pulpit is adorned with shining brass 
and stones, principally cornelians and agates. The or- 
gan discoursed a sonata of Beethoven for the practice 
of the organist, but secondarily for our delectation. A 
box with an inscription invites us to contribute our mite 
to the restoration of the cathedral, which may easily cost 
as much as the original structure. Carving, gilding, inlaid 
work, stained glass — no one circumstance of ecclesias- 
tical gewgawry is spared or omitted ; and trusting 
that some to us unknown centre of sanctification exists, 
to make the result of the whole something other than 
idol worship, we comply with the gratifying suggestion 
of our wealth and generosity. After satisfying our- 
selves with the cathedral, we look round wonderingly 
for the recipient of some further fee. He appears in 
the shape of a one-eyed man who invites us to ascend 
the tower. Guided by a small boy, Neophyte No. i ex- 
ecutes this ascent, and of course reports a wonderful 
prospect, which we are content to take on hearsay. 
Leaving the cathedral, we seek the house in which Dr. 
Johnson is said to have been born. It is, strange to 



l6 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

say, much like other houses, the lower story having been 
turned into a furnishing shop, where we buy a pin- 
cushion tidy for remembrance. In an open space, in 
front of the house, sits a statue of the renowned and re- 
doubted doctor, supported by a pedestal with biograph- 
ical bas-reliefs. Below one of these is inscribed, " He 
hears Sacheverell." The design represents a small 
child in a father's arms, presented before a wiggy divine, 
who can, of course, be none other than the one in ques- 
tion. While these simple undertakings are planned and 
executed, the veteran and elder neophyte engage a one- 
horse vehicle, and madly fly to visit an insane asylum. 
We shiver till dinner in the chilly parlor of the inn, 
and inter ourselves at an early hour in the recesses of 
a huge feather-bed, where the precious jewel, sleep, is 
easily found. And the next morning sees us e7i route 
for London. 

At one of the stations between Lichfield and Lou- 
don, we encounter a group whose chief figure is that of 
a pretty little lady, blithe as a golden butterfly, appar- 
elled for the chase. Her dress consists of a narrow- 
skirted habit, of moderate length, beneath which we 
perceive a pair of stout boots, of a description not 
strictly feminine. A black plush paletot corresponds 
with her black skirt. A shining stove-pipe crowns her 
yellow tresses. As she emerges from the railway car- 
riage, a young man of elegant aspect approaches her. 
He wears white hunting trousers, high black boots, a 
black plush coat, and carries a hunting whip. The sim- 
ilarity of color in the costumes leads us to suppose that 



LONDON. 



'7 



the wearers belong to some hunting association. He is 
at least Sir Charles, she, Lady Arabella. He accosts her 
with evident pleasure, and is allowed a shake of the 
hand. An elderly relative in the background, a ser- 
vant in top boots, who touches his hat as if it could cure 
the plague, — these complete the picture. 

At the same station we descry another huntsman in 
white breeches, scarlet cap, and overcoat. We learn 
that there are two meets to-day in this region, but our 
interests are with the black and white party. Farewell, 
Sir Charles and Lady Arabella. Joyous be your gal- 
lop, light your leap over five-barred gates. The sly fox 
Cupid may be chasing you, while you chase poor Ren- 
ard. Prosit, 

London. 

"Charing Cross Hotel? 'Ere you are, sir ; " and a 
small four-wheeled cab, with a diminutive horse and beer- 
tinted driver, has us up at the door of the same. In 
front, within the precincts of the hotel court, stands the 
ancient cross, or that which replaces it, and around ra- 
diate cook-shops and book-shops, jewellers and victual- 
lers and milliners. The human river of the Strand 
fluxes and refluxes before this central spot, and Trafal- 
gar Square, and Waterloo Place, and Westminster 
Abbey, and the Houses of Parliament are near. Cabs 
spring up like daisies and primroses beneath the foot- 
steps of spring. At the hotel they make a gratifying 
fuss about us. They seize upon all of us but our per- 
sons ; the lift, {Americane — elevator) does that, and 
2 



l8 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

noiselessly lodges us on the second floor, where we oc- 
cupy a decent sitting-room, with bedrooms en suite. A 
fire of soft coal soon glows in the grate. A smart cham- 
bermaid takes our orders. We get out our address-book, 
rub up our recollections, enclose and send our cards, 
then run out and take a dip in the Strand, and expand 
to the full consciousness that we are in the mighty city 
w T hich cannot fall because there is no hollow deep 
enough to hold it. 

We have a quiet day and a half at the hotel before 
we receive the echo of our cards. This interval we im- 
prove by visits to the houses of Parliament and West- 
minster Abbey, where we pay our full price, and visit 
the royal chapels with their many tombs. At the recum- 
bent figures of Mary Stuart and Elizabeth we pause to 
think of the dramatic ghosts which will not allow them 
to rest in their graves. Poetry is resurrection, and for 
us who -have seen Rachel and Ristori, Mary and Eliza- 
beth are still living and speaking lessons of human 
passion and misfortune. These marbles hold their 
crumbling bones, but we have seen them in far America, 
doing a night's royalty before a democratic audience, 
and demanding to be largely paid for the same. 

The frescoes and statues in the long corridors of the 
Houses of Parliament deserve a more minute study than 
we are able to give them. The former show consid- 
erable progress in the pictorial art during the seventeen 
years which divide our present from our past observa- 
tions. They represent noted events in English history, 
the last sleep of Argyle, the execution of Montrose, and 



LONDON. 19 

so on. Among them we see the departure of the May- 
Flower, but not the battle of Bunker Hill. The statues 
perpetuate the memories of public men, including a 
great variety both as to opinion and as to service. The 
solidity of all these adornments and arrangements well 
deserves the praise with which English authorities have 
been wont to comment upon them. A little sombre and 
sober in their tone, they are expressive of the taste and 
feeling of the nation. Parliament is now in session, and 
various interesting measures and reforms are under con- 
templation. Among these are the extension of the elec- 
tive franchise, the abolition of flogging in the army, and 
the change of the whole long-transmitted system by 
which commissions in the latter are conferred or pur- 
chased. The last is perhaps a more democratic measure 
than is dreamed of. Throw open the military and 
church benefices to the competition of the most able and 
deserving, and the younger sons of houses esteemed no- 
ble will stand no better chance than others. They will 
then simply earn their bread where they can get it. 
Then, down comes primogeniture, then the union of 
state and church, then the prestige of royalty. This last 
we think to be greatly on the wane. The English pre- 
fer an hereditary to an elective symbol of supreme 
power. The permitted descent in the female line pre- 
vents the inconvenient issues to which the failure of 
an heir male might give rise. The Georges rose to 
great respectability in the third person, and sank to a 
disreputable level in the fourth. The present queen is 
an excellently behaved woman, and has adhered strictly 



20 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

to her public and private duties. Her long and strict 
widowhood is a little carped at by people in general, the 
personal sentiment having seemed to encroach upon the 
public career and office. But the Prince of Wales will 
be held to strict and sensible behavior, and, failing of 
it, will be severely dealt with. The English people will 
endure no second season of Carlton House, no letting 
down of manly reserve and womanly character by the 
spectacle of royal favorites, bankrupt at the fireside, but 
current in the world. All this John Bull will not put 
up with again. Nor will any Christendom, save that 
Frankish and monkeyish one which has yet to learn that 
true freedom of thought is not to be had without purity 
of conscience, and which, in its desire to be polite, holds 
the door wider open to bad manners than to good ones. 

Rash words ! What noble, thoughtful Frenchmen 
have not we known, and the world with us ! Shall boast- 
ful Secesh and blustering Yankee, or the sordid, shining 
shoddy fool stand for the American? Yet these are the 
figures with which Europe is most, familiar. So let us 
fling no smallest pebble at the nation of Des Cartes, 
Montesquieu, Pascal, and De Tocqueville. It is not 
in one, but in all countries that extremes meet. And in 
this connection a word. 

The less we know about a thing, the easier to write 
about it. To give quite an assured and fluent account 
of a country, we should lose no time on our first arrival. 
The first impression is the strongest. Familiarity con- 
stantly wears off the edge of observation. The face of the 
new region astonishes us once, and once only. We soon 



LONDON. 21 



grow used to it, and forget to describe it. The first day 
of our arrival in Liverpool or in London gave us volumes 
to write, which have proved as evanescent as the pic- 
tures of a swift panorama, vanishing to return no more. 
For now we are seated in London as though we had 
always lived there. We may sooner astonish it with our 
western accent, unconsidered costume, and wild coiffure, 
than it can rivet our attention with its splendors and its 
queernesses, its squares, fountains, equipages, cabmen, 
well-dressed and well-mannered circles. This for the 
features, for the surface. But for the depth and spirit 
of things, the longer we explore, the less sanguine do 
we feel of being able to exhaust them. We sink our 
deepest shaft, and write upon it, " Thus far our abilities 
and opportunities ; far more remains than we can ever 
bring to light." 

And, apropos of this terrible familiarity with things 
once discerned, let me say that when we shall have been 
two days in heaven, we shall not know it any longer, 
which is one reason why w 7 e must always be getting 
there, but never arrive. Pope's old-fashioned line, " al- 
ways to be blest," expresses profoundly this philosophi- 
cal necessity, although he saw it in a simply didactic 
light, and stated it accordingly. The line none the less 
takes its place in the stately train of the ideal philoso- 
phy, to which those have best contributed who have 
been least aware of the fact of their having done so, . 
" Lord, when saw I thee naked and an hungered," etc., 
etc. On some smallest, obscurest occasion probably, 
when, the recognized form and the ignored spirit pre- 



22 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

senting themselves together, thy hospitable bosom « 
ceived the one, and left the other to take care of itself. 

Our neophytes take this great Babel with the charm- 
ing at-homeiiess to which our paragraph alludes. The;; 
devour London as if it were the perpetual bread and 
butter which their father's house keeps always cut and 
spread for them ; cab hire, great dinners, distinguished 
company, the lofty friend's equipage and livery, lent for 
precious occasions, — all this seems as much a matter of 
course as Lindley Murray's rules, or the Creed and the 
Commandments. Joachim? Of course they will hear 
Joachim, and the Opera, if it be good enough, and Mr. 

Dickens. Lady , Duke of So and so. Very well 

in their way. Presented at court? They wouldn't 
mind, provided it were not too tedious. Mr. Carlyle? 
Herbert Spencer? Yes, they have heard tell of them. 

Happy season of youth, which can find nothing more 
reverend than its possibilities, more glorious than its un- 
wasted powers ! In spite of all the new views and 
theories, I say, let children be born, and let women nurse 
them and bring them up, and let us have young people 
to take our work where we leave it, laughing at our lim- 
itations, and excelling us with noble strides ; to pause 
some day, and remember our lessons, and weep over our 
pains, not the less, O God of the future, surpassing us ! 
So let children continue to be born, and let no one at- 
tempt to reconstruct society at the expense of one 
hair of the head of these little ones, ourselves in hope 
as well as in memory. 



st. paul's — the Japanese. 23 



St. Paul's — The Japanese. 

The first feature of novelty in visiting St. Paul's 
Cathedral is the facility for going thither afforded by the 
city railways, — one of which swiftly deposits us in Can- 
non Street, whence, with the Cathedral in full sight, we 
beg our way to the entrance, so far as information goe"s, 
— one only of its several doors being open to the pub- 
lic at all times. The second is the crypt occupied and 
solemnized by the ponderous funereal pomps of the 
late Duke of Wellington. In conjunction with these must 
be mentioned the Nelson monument. These two men 
have been the great deliverers of England in modern 
times, and there is, no doubt, a certain heartiness in the 
gratitude that attends their memory. The duke's 
mausoleum is of solid porphyry, highly polished, in a 
quadrangular enclosure, at each of whose four corners 
flames a gas-jet, fixed on a porphyry shaft. Behind 
this a large space is filled by the huge funereal car which 
bore the hero to this place of rest. It is of cast iron, 
furnished by the cannon taken in his victories. In it 
are harnessed effigies of the six horses that dragged it, 
in the veritable trappings worn on the occasion. The 
heavy black draperies of the car are edged with a 
colored border, representing the orders worn by the 
duke. And here the care of England will, no doubt, 
preserve them, with the nodding hearse-plumes, and all 
the monuments of that holiday of woe, to moulder as 
long as such things can possibly hold together. For 
there is a point at which the most illustrious antiquity 



24 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

degenerates into dirt. And in England the past and 
present will y.et have some awkward controversies to 
settle ; for the small island cannot always have room for 
both, and to cramp and crowd the one for the heraldic 
display of the other will not be good housekeeping, 
according to the theories of to-day. So, when the fox- 
hunting squire tells us that his chief public aim and 
occupation will be to keep his county conservative, we 
think that this should mean to cheat the honest and 
laborious peasantry out of their eye teeth ; though how 
they should be ignorant enough to be outwitted by him, 
is a question w r hich makes us pause as over an unex- 
plored abyss of knownothingism. 

St. Paul's is clearly organized for the extortion of 
shillings and sixpences. So much for seeing the bell, 
clock, and whispering gallery ; so much for the crypt 
You are pressed, too, at every turn, to purchase guide 
books, each more authentic than the last. There, as else- 
where, we go about spilling our small change at every 
step, and wondering where it will all end. We remem- 
ber the debtors' prisons which still abound in England, 
and endeavor to view the younger neophyte in the sober 
livery of Little Dorrit. 

The only occasion of public amusement that we im- 
prove, after the one happy hearing of Joachim, is an 
evening performance of the Japanese jugglers, which 
remains fresh and vivid in our recollections, with all its 
barbaric smoothness and perfection. 

The first spectacle which we behold is that of a 
chattering and shrieking monkey of a man, who, squat- 



st. paul's — the Japanese. 25 

ting on his haunches, visibly fills a tea-cup with water, 
inverts it upon a pile of papers without spilling a drop, 
and puHs out layer after layer of those papers, all per- 
fectly dry, which he waves at us with a childish joy. 
By and by, he restores the cup to its original position, 
and then empties its contents into another vessel before 
our eyes. Another, a top-spinning savage, continually 
whirls his top into that state which the boys call " sleep," 
and spins it, thus impelled, along the sharp edge of a 
steel sword, up to the point and back again, and along 
the border of a paper fan, with other deeds which it 
were tedious to enumerate. While these feats go on, 
two funny little Japanese children, oddly bundled up 
according to the patterns of the two sexes, toddle about 
and chatter with the elders, probably for the purpose of 
illustrating the features of family life in Japan. A 
young creature, said to be the wife of six unpronounce- 
able syllables, strums on a monotonous stringed instru- 
ment, and screeches, sometimes striking an octave, but 
successfully dodging every other interval. Both in 
speech and in song the tones of these people betray an 
utter want of command over the inflections of the 
voice. Every elevation is a scream, every depression, 
con risftetto, a grunt. And when, in addition to the 
song and strumming, the little ones lustily beat a large 
wooden tea-box with wooden weapons, we begin to 
waver a little about the old proverb, De gustibus non 
dlsputandum est. The beautiful butterfly trick, how- 
ever, consoles our eyes for what our ears have suffered. 
The conjurer twists first one, then two, butterflies out of 



26 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

a bit of white paper, and, by means of a fan,, cause 
them to fly and poise as if they were coquetting with 
July breezes. When, at last, he presents a basket of 
flowers, the illusion is perfect. They settle, fly again, 
and hover round, in true coleopteric fashion. 

But the acrobatic exhibition is that which beggars all 
that our overworked sensibilities have endured at th< 
hands of rope-dancer or equestrian. Blondin himself, 
Hanlon in the flying trapeze, are less perfect and less 
terrible. Acrobat No. i appears in an athlete's costume 
of white linen. He binds a stout silken tie around 
his head — a precaution whose object is later understood. 
He then gets into a small metal triangle with a running 
cord attached, and is swung up to the neighborhood of 
the high, arched ceiling, where various cross-pieces, 
slight in appearance, are attached. To one of these he 
directs his venturous flight, and letting his triangle 
depart, he takes his station with his legs firmly closed 
upon the cross-piece, his head hanging down, his hands 
free. Acrobat No. 2 now comes upon the scene. 
Mounting in a second triangle, he is swung to a cer- 
tain height at a distance of some twenty or more feet 
from the first performer. A bamboo pole is here 
handed him, of which he manages to convey the upper 
end within the grasp of the latter. And now, swinging 
loose from his triangle, he hangs at the lower end of the 
bamboo, his steadfast colleague holding fast the upper 
end. And this mere straight line, with only the natural 
jointings of the cane, becomes to him a domain, a 
palace of ease. Now he clings to it apparently with 



st. paul's — the Japanese. 27 

one finger, throwing out the other hand and both feet. 
Now he clings by one foot, his head being down, and 
his hands occupied w T ith a fan. There is, in fact, 
no name for the singularities with which he amazes us 
for at least a quarter of an hour. No. 1 always holds 
on like grim death. No. 2 seems at times to hold on by 
nothing. All the while one of their number chatters 
volubly in the Japanese dialect, directing attention to the 
achievements of the two pendent heroes. Our thoughts 
recurred forcibly to a dialogue long familiar in our own 
country : — 

"Wat's dat darkening up de hole?" asks Cuffeeinthe 
she bear's den to Cuffee without, who is forcibly detain- 
ing the returned she bear by one extremity. 

"If de tail slips through my fingers, you'll find out," 
is the curt reply, and end of the story. 

But the pole did not slip through, and, finally, the 
second triangle was swung towards acrobat No. 2, who 
relinquished his hold of the bamboo, and intwining his 
legs about it, pleasantly made his descent with his head 
downwards, afterwards setting himself to rights with 
one shake. Acrobat No. 1 now condescends to come 
down from his high position, also with his head down, 
and a cool and consummate demeanor. But he walks - 
off from the stage as if his late inverted view of it had 
given him something to think of. And in all this, not 
one jerk, one hasty snatch, one fall and recovery. All 
goes with the rounded smoothness of machinery. These 
gymnasts have perfected the mechanism of the body, 
but they have given it nothing to do that is worth doing. 



28 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 



SOCIETY. 

We bite at the tempting bait of London society a 
little eagerly. In our case, as veterans, it is like return- 
ing to a delicious element from which we have long 
been weaned. The cheerfulness with which English 
people respond to the modest presentment of a card 
well-motived, the cordiality with which they welcome an 
old friend, once truly a friend, may well offset the reserv 
with which they respond to advances made at random, 
and the resolute self-defence of the British Lion in par- 
ticular against all vague and vagabond enthusiasms. 
Carlyle's wrath at the Americans who homaged and 
tormented him prompted a grandiose vengeance. He 
called them a nation of hyperbores. Not for this do we 
now vigorously let him alone, but because his spleeny 
literary utterances these many years, attest the precise 
moment in which bright Apollo left him. The most 
brilliant genius should beware of the infirmity of the 
fireside and admiring few, whose friendship applauds 
his poorest sayings, and, at the utmost, shrugs its shoul- 
ders where praise is out of the question. 

Our remembrance of the London of twenty-four years 
ago is, indeed hyperdelightful, and of that description 
which one does not ask to have repeated, so perfect is it 
in the first instance. A second visit was less social 
and more secluded in its opportunities. But now — fo: 
what reason it matters not ; would it were that of our 
superior merit — we find the old delightful account 
reopened, the friendly visits frequent, and the luxurious 



SOCIETY, 



2 9 



invitations to dinner occupy every evening of our short 
week in London, crowding out theatres and opera, 
— the latter now just in the bud. To these dissipations 
a new one has been added, and the afternoon tea is now 
a recognized institution. Less formal and expensive than 
a New York afternoon reception, it answers the same 
purpose of a final object and rest for the day's visiting. 
In some instances, it continues through the season ; in 
others, invitations are given for a single occasion only. 
You go, if invited, in spruce morning dress, with as 
much or as little display of train and bonnet as may 
suit with your views. You find a cheerful and broken-up 
assemblage — people conversing in twos, or, at most, 
in threes. And here is the Very Reverend the Dean. 
And here is the Catholic Archbishop, renowned for the 
rank and number of his proselytes. And here is Sir 
Charles — not he of the hunting-whip and breeches, but 
one renowned in science, and making a practical as well 
as a theoretical approximation to the antiquity of man. 
And here is Sir Samuel, who has finally discovered 
those parent lakes of the Nile which have been among 
the lost arts of geography for so many centuries. In 
this society, no man sees or shows a full-length portrait. 
A word is given, a phrase exchanged, and " tout est dit" 
What it all may amount to must be made out in an- 
other book than mine. 

Well, having been more or less introduced, you take 
a cup of tea, with the option of bread and butter or a 
fragment of sponge cake. Having finished this, you 
vanish; you have shown yourself, reported yourself; 
more was not expected of vou. 



30 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

A graver and more important institution is the Lon- 
don dinner, commencing at half past seven, with good 
evening clothes — a white neckcloth and black vest for 
gentlemen ; for nous autres, evening dress, not resplen- 
dent. The dinners we attend have perhaps the edge of 
state a little taken off, being given at short notice; but 
we observe female attire to be less showy than in our 
recollections of twenty-four years previous, and our one 
evening dress, devised to answer for dinner, evening 
party, and ball, proves a little over, rather than under, 
the golden mean of average appearance. As one din- 
ner is like all, the briefest sketch of a single possible 
occasion may suffice. If you have been at afternoon 
tea before dinner, your toilet has been perforce a very 
hurried one. If it is your first appearance, the annonce 
of a French hair-dresser in the upper floor of your hotel 
may have inspired you with the insane idea of sub- 
mitting your precious brain-case to his manipulations. 
Having you once in his dreadful seat, he imposes upon 
you at his pleasure. You must accept his hair-string, 
his pins, his rats, at a price at which angola cats were 
dear. You are palpitating with haste, he with the 
conceit of his character and profession. Fain would 
he add swindle to swindle, and perfidy to perfidy. 
"Don't you want a little crayon to darken the hair??? 
and hide the ravages of age ; " it is true it colors a little, 
since it is made on purpose." You desire it not. " A 
cream ? a pomade ? a hair-wash ? " None of all this ; 
only in Heaven's name to have done with him ! He 
capers behind you, puffing your sober head with curls, 



SOCIETY. 31 

as if he had the breath of ./Bolus, according to Flax- 
man's illustration. Finally he dismisses you at large 
and unwarranted cost ; but in your imagination he ca- 
pers at your back for a week to come. 
This prelude, which gives to 

"hairy nothing 
A local habitation and a name," 

leaves little time for further adornment. A hired cab 
takes your splendors to the door of the inviting man- 
sion, and leaves them there. When you depart, you 
request the servant of the house which feeds you to call 
another cab, which he does with the air of rendering a 
familiar service. 

I have no intention of giving a detailed portrait of 
the entertainment that follows. Its few characteristic 
features can be briefly given. Introductions are not 
general ; and even in case the occasion should have 
been invoked and invited for you, the greater part of 
your fellow-guests may not directly make your acquaint- 
ance. Servants are graver than senators with us. Dishes 
follow each other in bewildering and rather oppressive 
variety. You could be very happy with any one of 
them alone, but with a dozen you fear even to touch 
and taste. Conversation is not loud nor general, scarce- 
ly audible across the table. As in marriage, your part- 
ner is your fate. One would be very glad to present 
one brick so that another could be laid on top of it, or 
even to attempt an angle and a corner adjustment. But 
this conversation is not architectonic. It aims at noth- 



32 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

ing more than the requisite small change. If by chance 
the society be assembled at an informal house, and com- 
posed of artists and authors, we shall hear jests and 
laughter, but the themes of these will scarcely go be- 
yond the most familiar matters. Having told thus much 
we have told all, except that ice is not served, as with 
us, upon the table, in picturesque variety of form and 
color, but is usually bestowed in spoonfuls, one of either 
kind to each person, the quality being excellent, and the 
quantity, after all else that has been offered, quite suffi- 
cient. It is here one of the most expensive articles of 
luxe — costing thrice its Yankee prices. The ladies 
leave the table a little before the gentlemen ; but these 
arrive with no symptoms of inordinate drinking. The 
latter, as is well known, is long gone out of fashion, 
and with it, we imagine, the description of wit and 
anecdote, whose special enjoyment used to be reserved 
for the time " after the ladies had left the table." This 
is all that can be told of the dinner, which is the ne plus 
ultra of English social enjoyments ; for balls every- 
where are stale affairs, save to the dancing neophytes, 
and the enjoyment to be had at them is either official or 
gymnastic. At a " select" soiree following a state din- 
ner, we hear Mr. Ap Thomas, the renowned harpist, 
whose execution is indeed brilliant and remarkable. 
The harp, however, is an instrument that owes its pres- 
tige partly to its beauty of form, partly to the romance 
of its traditions, from King David to the Welsh bards. 
In tone and temper it remains greatly inferior to the 
piano-forte, the finger governing the strings far better 



SOCIETY. 33 

with than without the intervention of the keys and 
hammers, 

But while we thankfully accept the offered opportu- 
nities of meeting those whom we desire to see, we are 
forced, as hygienists and economists, to enter our protest 
against the English dinner — this last joint in the back- 
bone of luxury. After hearty luncheon and social tea, 
it would seem to be a mere superfluity, not needed, a 
danger if partaken of, a mockery if neglected. So let 
New England cherish while she can the early dinner ; 
for with the extended areas of business and society, 
dinner grows ever later, and the man and his family 
wider apart. By the time that tea and coffee are got 
through with, it may well be half past ten o'clock, and 
by eleven, at latest, unless there should be music or 
some special after-entertainment, you take leave. 

Hoping to revisit more fully this ancestral isle before 
the tocsin of depart for home, we will now, with a little 
more of our sketchiness, take leave of it, which we 
should do w r ith heartier regret but for the prospect of a 
not distant return. 

In philosophy, England at the present day does not 
seem to go beyond Mill on the one hand, and Stewart on 
the other. The word " science" is still used, as it was 
ten years ago with us, to express the rules and obser- 
vances of physical and mathematical study. Science, 
as the mother of the rules of thought, generating logic, 
building metaphysics, and devising the rules of cohe- 
rence by which human cogitation is at once promoted 
and measured, — this conception of science I did not 
3 



34 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

recognize in those with whom I spoke, unless I except 
Rev. H. Martineau, with whom I had only general con- 
versation, but whose intellectual position is at once with- 
out the walls of form, and within the sanctuary of free- 
dom. I was referred to Jowett and his friends as the 
authorities under this head, but this was not the moment 
in which to find them. In religion, Miss Cobbe leads 
the van, her partial method assuming as an original 
conception what the Germans have done, and much 
better done, before her. Theodore Parker is, I gather, 
her great man ; and in her case, as in his, largeness of 
nature, force and geniality of temperament, take the 
place of scientific construction and responsible labor. 
Mr. Martineau's position is well known, and is for us 
New Englanders beyond controversy. The broad church 
is best known to us by Kingsley and Maurice. To those 
who still stand within the limits of an absolute authority 
in spiritual matters, its achievements may appear worthy 
of surprise and of gratulation. To those who have 
passed that barrier they present no intellectual feature 
worth remarking. 

I well remember to-day my childish astonishment 
when I first learned that I and my fellows were outside 
the earth's crust, not within it. In connection with this 
came also the fact of a mysterious force binding us to 
the surface of the planet, so that, in its voyages and 
revolutions, it can lose nothing of its own. 

Something akin to this may be the discovery of be- 
lievers that they and those whom they follow are, so 
far as concerns actual opportunity of knowledge, on the 



SOCIETY. 35 

outside of the world of ideal truth. Eye hath not seen, 
nor ear heard, nor heart conceived, any absolute form 
of its manifestation. A divine, mysterious force binds 
us to our place on its smiling borders. Of what lies 
beyond we construe as we can — Moses according to his 
ability, Christ and Paul according to theirs. Unseen 
and unmanifested it must ever remain ; for though men 
say that God has done so and so, God has never said 
so. Of this we become sure : religion spiritualizes, 
inspires, and consoles us. The strait gate and narrow 
path are blessed for all who find them, and are the 
same for all who seek them. But this oneness of 
morals is learned experimentally ; it cannot be taught 
dogmatically. 

Proposing to return to this theme, and to see more 
of the broad church before I decide upon its position, I 
take leave of it and of its domain together. Farewell, 
England ! farewell, London ! For three months to come 
thou wilt contain the regalia of all wits, of all capabili- 
ties. Fain would we have lingered beside the hospitable 
tables, and around the ancient monuments, considering 
also the steadfast and slowly-developing institutions. 
But the chief veteran is in haste for Greece, and on the 
very Sunday on which we should have heard Martineau 
in the forenoon, and Dean Stanley in the afternoon, with 
delightful social recreation in the evening, we break 
loose from our moorings, reach Folkstone, and embark 
for its French antithesis, Boulogne sur mer. 



36 from the oak to the olive. 

The Channel. 

If the devil is not so black as he is painted, it must 
be because he has an occasional day of good humor. 
Some such wondrous interval is hinted at by people 
who profess to have seen the Channel sea smooth and 
calm. We remember it piled with mountains of an- 
guish — one's poor head swimming, one's heart sink- 
ing, while an organ more important than either in this 
connection underwent a sort of turning inside out which 
seemed to w r rench the very strings of life. But on this 
broken Sabbath our wonderful luck still pursues us. It is 
in favor of the neophytes that this new dispensation has 
been granted. The monsters of the deep respect their 
innocence, and cannot visit on them the vulgar offences 
of their progenitors. They bind the waves with a gar- 
land of roses and lilies, whose freshness proves a spell of 
peace. We, the elders, embark, expecting the usual 
speedy prostration ; but, placing ourselves against the 
mast, we determine, like Ulysses, to maintain the integ- 
rity of our position. And it so happens that we do. 
While a few sensitive mortals about us execute the 
irregular symphony of despair, we rest in a calm and 
upright silence. Never was the Channel so quiet ! 
We w r ere not uproarious, certainly, but contemplative. 
A wretch tucked us up with a tarpaulin, for which he 
afterwards demanded a trifle. If civility is sold for its 
weight in silver anywhere, it is on English soil and in 
English dependencies. We, the veterans, took our quiet 
ferriage in mute amazement ; the neophytes took it as 
a thing of course. 



PARIS AND THENCE. 37 

Arrived, we rush to the buffet of the railroad station, 
where every one speaks French-English. Here a very 
limited dinner costs us five francs a head. We accept 
the imposition with melancholy thoughtfulness. Then 
comes the whistle of the locomotive. "En voiture, 
messieurs !" And away, with a shriek, and a groan, 
and a rattle, — to borrow Mr. Dickens's refrain, now 
that he has done with it, — en route for Paris. 

Paris and Thence. 

In Paris the fate of Greece still pursues us. Two 
days the rigid veteran will grant ; no more — the rest 
promised when the Eastern business shall have been 
settled. But those two days suffice to undo our immor- 
tal souls so far as shop windows can do this. The shin- 
ing sins and vanities of the world are so insidiously set 
forth in this Jesuits' college of Satan, that you catch the 
contagion of folly and extravagance as you pace the 
streets, or saunter through the brilliant arcades. Your 
purveyor makes a Sybarite of you, through the inevita- 
ble instrumentality of breakfast and dinner. Your 
clothier, from boots to bonnet, seduces you into putting 
the agreeable before the useful. For if you purchase 
the latter, you will be moved to buy by the former, and 
use becomes an after-thought to your itching desire and 
disturbed conscience. Paris is a sweating furnace in 
which human beings would turn life everlasting into 
gold, provided it were a negotiable value. You, who 
escape its allurements solvent, with a franc or two in 
your pocket, and your resources for a year to come not 



38 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

mortgaged, should after your own manner cause Te 
Deum to be sung or celebrated. Strongly impressed at 
the time, moved towards every acquisitive villany, not 
excluding shop-lifting nor the picking of pockets, I now 
regard with a sort of indignation those silken snares, 
those diamond, jet, and crystal allurements, which so 
nearly brought my self-restraint, and w T ith it my self-re- 
spect, to ruin. Everything in Paris said to me, " Shine, 
dye your hair, rouge your cheeks, beggar your purse 
with real diamonds, or your pride with false ones. But 
shine, and, if necessary, beg or steal." Nothing said, 
" Be sober, be vigilant, because your adversary, like a 
roaring lion," etc., etc. What a deliverer was therefore 
the stern Crete-bound veteran, who cut the Gordian knot 
of enchantment with, " Pack and begone." And having 
ended that inevitable protest against his barbarity with 
which women requite the offices of true friendship, I 
now turn my wrath against false, fair Paris, and cry, 
"Avoid thee, scelesttssima ! Away from me, nequis- 
simal I w T ill none of thee ; not a franc, not an obolus. 
Avoid thee ! Nolo ornaril " 

Touching our journey from Paris to Marseilles, I will 
only give the scarce-needed advice that those who have 
this route to make should inflict upon themselves a little 
extra fatigue, and stop only at Lyons, if at all, rather 
than risk the damp rooms and musty accommodations 
of the smaller places which lie upon the route, offering 
to the traveller few objects of interest, or none. For 
it often happens in travelling that a choice only of in- 
conveniences is presented to us, and in our opinion a 



PARIS AND THENCE, 



39 



prolonged day's journey in a luxurious car is far less 
grievous to be borne than a succession of stoppages, un- 
packings, and piungings into unknown inns and unaired 
beds. To this opinion, however, our Greece-bound vet- 
eran suffers not himself to be converted, and, according- 
ly, we, leaving Paris on the Wednesday at ten A. M., do 
not reach Marseilles until four o'clock of the Friday 
afternoon following. 

The features of our first day's journey are those of a 
country whose landed possessions are subdivided into 
the smallest portions cultivable. Plains and hill-sides 
are alike covered with the stripes which denote the 
limits of property. Fruit trees in blossom abound every 
where, but the villages, built of rough stone and lime, 
are distant from each other. As we go southward, the 
vine becomes more apparent, and before we reach Lyons 
we see much of that contested gift of God. The trains 
that pass us are often loaded with barrels whose precious 
contents cannot be bought pure for any money, on the 
other side of the Atlantic, or even of the Straits of Do- 
ver. To this the procession of the jolly god has come 
at last. He leers at us through the two red eyes of the 
locomotive ; its stout cylinder represents his emboli- 
foint. Instead of frantic Bacchantes, the rattling cars 
dance after him, and " Ohe evoke I " degenerates into the 
shrill whew, whew of the engine. At the buffets and 
hotels en route his mysteries are celebrated. These 
must be sought in the labyrinthine state of mind of those 
who have drunken frequently and freely. They utter 
words unintelligible to the sober and uninspired, sen- 



4-0 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

tences of prophetic madness which the prose of modern 
physiology condenses into those two words — gout and 
delirium tremens. Yet these two dire diseases are rare 
among the temperate French. They export the pro- 
ducing medium au profit de Vetranger. 

We stop the first night at Macon, and sleep in an im- 
posing, chilly room, without carpets, under down cover- 
lets. The second day's journey brings us to Lyons an 
hour before noon. We engage a fiacre, drive around 
the town, whose growth and improvement in the interval 
of sixteen years do not fail to strike us. Fine public 
squares adorn it, themselves embellished with bronze 
statues, among w r hich we observe an equestrian figure 
of the first and only Napoleon. The shops are as tor- 
menting as those of Paris, the Cafe Casati, where we 
dine, as elegant. Re-embarking at four P. M., we 
reach Valence in about four hours. 

The worst of it is, that, arriving at these quaint little 
places after dark, you see none of their features, and 
taste only of their discomforts. At Valence our inn was 
so dreary, that, having bestowed the neophytes in sound 
slumber, the veteran and I sallied forth in quest of any 
pastime whatever, without being at all fastidious as to 
its source and character. Passing along the quiet streets, 
we observe what would seem to be a theatre, on the 
other side of the way. Entering, we find a youthful 
guardian, who tells us that there is up staiis a "con- 
ference de philosophies We enter, and hnd a very 
respectable assemblage, listening attentively to an indis- 
tinct orator, who rhapsodizes upon the poets of modern 



PARIS AND THENCE. 41 

France, with quotations and personal anecdotes. What 
he says has little originality, but is delivered with good 
taste and feeling. He speaks without notes ; for, indeed, 
such a causerie spins itself, Jike a sailor's yarn, though 
out of finer materials. 

Returning to our hostelry, we sleep with open win- 
dow in a musty room, and catch cold. The next day's 
journey still conducts us through a vine-growing region, 
in a more and more advanced condition. The constant 
presence of the morus multicaulis also makes us aware 
of the presence of the silk- worm — so far, only in the 
egg-condition ; for that prime minister of vanity is not 
hatched } r et. We learn that the disease which has for 
some years devastated the worm is on the decline. The 
world with us, meanwhile has become somewhat weaned 
from the absolute necessity of the article, and the friend- 
ly sheep and alpaca have made great progress in the 
aesthetics of the toilet. As we approach Marseilles, 
we cross a dreary flat of wide extent, covered with 
stones and saltish grass, and said to produce the finest 
cattle in France. The olive, too, makes his stiff bow to 
us as we pass, well remembering his dusty green. The 
olive trees seem very small, and are, indeed, of com- 
paratively recent growth ; all the larger ones having 
been killed by a frost, rare in these latitudes, whose 
epoch we are inclined to state as posterior to our last 
presence in these parts. Our informant places it at 
twenty years ago. After three days of piecemeal trav- 
elling, the arrival at Marseilles seems quite a relief. 



42 from the oak to the olive. 

Marseilles. 

At Marseilles we find a quasi tropical aspect — long 
streets, handsome and well-shaded, tempting shops, lux- 
urious hotels, a motley company, and, above all, a friend, 
one of our own countrymen, divided between the glit- 
ter pf the new life and the homesick weaning of the old. 
Half, he assumes the cicerone, and guides our ignorance 
about. Half, he sits to learn, and we expound to him 
what has befallen at home, so far as we are conscious 
of it. We take half a day for resting, the next day for 
sight-seeing. On the third, we must sail, for finding 
that Holy Week is still to be, we determine to make our 
reluctant sacrifice to the Mediterranean, and to trust our 
precious comfort and delicate equilibrium to that blue 
imposture, that sunniest of humbugs. 

On the second day, we climb the steep ascent that 
leads to the chapel of La Bonne Mere de la Garde. 
This hot and panting ascent is not made by us with- 
out many pauses for recovered breath and energy. At 
every convenient stopping-place in the steep ascent are 
stationed elderly women presiding over small booths, 
who urgently invite us to purchase candles to give to 
the Madonna, medals, rosaries, and photographs, to all 
of whom we oppose a steadfast resistance. We have 
twice in our lives brought home from Europe boat-loads 
of trash, and we think that, as Paul says, the time past 
of our lives may suffice us. Finally, with a degree of 
perspiration more than salutary, we reach the top, and 
enjoy first the view of the Mediterranean, including 



MARSEILLES. 43 

a bird's-eye prospect of the town, which looks so 
parched and arid as to make the remembrance of Lon- 
don in the rain soothing and pleasant. A palace is 
pointed out which was built in the expectation of a 
night's sojourn of the emperor, but to which, they tell 
us, he never came. Our point of view is the top of one 
of the towers of the church. Going inside, we look 
down upon the aisles and altars from a lofty gallery. 
The silver robes of the Madonna glisten, reflecting 
the many wax-lights that devotees have kindled around 
her. The first sight of these material expressions of 
devotion is imposing, the second instructive, the third, 
commonplace and wearisome. We are at the last 
clause, and gaze at these things with the eyes of people 
w r ho have seen enough of them. 

The remainder of the disposable day we employ in a 
drive to the Prado, the fashionable region for the display 
of equipage and toilet. This is not, however, the 
fashionable day, and we meet only a few grumpy-look- 
ing dowagers in all stages of fatitude. The road is 
planted with double rows of lindens, and is skirted by 
country residences and villas to let. We stop and alight 
at the Musee, a spacious and handsome building, erected 
and owned by a noble of great w r ealth, long since dead, 
who committed celibacy, and left no personal heir. It 
is now the property of the city of Marseilles. The hall 
is fine. Among the spacious salons, the largest is used 
as a gallery of pictures, mostly by artists of this neigh- 
borhood, and of very humble merit. In another we 
find a very good collection of Egyptian antiquities, 



44 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

while in yet another the old state furniture is retained, 
the rich crimson hangings, long divan of gobelin, and 
chairs covered with fine worsted needle-work. Beyond is 
a pretty Chinese cabinet, with a full-length squatue of 
Buddh, gayly gilded and painted. Above stairs, the 
state bed and hangings are shown, the latter matching a 
handsome landscape chintz, with which the walls are 
covered. This museum has in it a good deal of instruc- 
tive and entertaining matter, and is kept in first-rate order. 
Returning, we drive around the outer skirts of the town, 
and see something of the summer bathing hotels, the 
great storehouses, and the streets frequented by the 
working and seafaring portion of the community. 

In the evening we walk through the streets, which are 
brilliant with gas, and visit the cafes, where ices, coffee, 
and lemonade are enjoyed. We finally seat ourselves in 
a casino, a sort of mixed cafe and theatre, where the 
most motley groups of people are coming, going, and 
sitting. At one end is a small stage, with a curtain, 
which falls at the end of each separate performance. 
Here songs and dances succeed each other, only half 
heeded by the public, who drink, smoke, and chatter 
without stint. After a hornpipe, a dreadful woman in 
white, with a blue peplum, hoarsely shouts a song with- 
out music, accompanied by drums and' barbaric cym- 
bals. She makes at last a vile courtesy, matching the 
insufficiency of her dress below by its utter absence 
above the waist, and we take flight. The next morn- 
ing witnesses our early departure from Marseilles. 



ROME. 45 

Rome. 

With feelings much mingled, I approach, for the 
third time, the city of Rome. I pause to collect the 
experience of sixteen years, the period intervening be- 
tween my second visit and the present. I left Rome, 
after those days, with entire determination, but with in- 
finite reluctance. America seemed the place of exile, 
Rome the home of sympathy and comfort. To console 
myself for the termination of my travels, I undertook a 
mental pilgrimage, which unfolded to me something of 
the spirit of that older world, of which I had found the 
form so congenial. To the course of private experience 
were added great public lessons. Among these I may 
name the sublime failure of John Brown, the sorrow 
and success of the late war. And now I must confess 
that, after so many intense and vivid pages of life, this 
visit to Rome, once a theme of fervent and solemn de- 
sire, becomes a mere page of embellishment in a serious 
and instructive volume. So, while my countrymen and 
women, and the Roman world in general, hang intent 
upon the pages of the picture-book, let me resume my 
graver argument, and ask and answer such questions of 
the present as may seem useful and not ungenial. 

The Roman problem has for the American thinker two 
clauses : first, that of state and society ; secondly, that of 
his personal relation to the same. Arriving here, and be- 
coming in some degree acquainted with things as they are, 
he asks, first, What is the theory of this society, and how 
long w r ill it continue? secondly, What do my countrymen 



46 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

who consent to pass their lives here gain ? what do the} 
give up? I cannot answer either of these questions ex- 
haustively. The first would lead me far into social the- 
orizing ; the second into some ungracious criticism. So a 
word, a friendly one must stand for good intentions 
where wisdom is at fault. 

The theory of this society in policy and religion is 
that of a symbolism whose remote significance has long 
been lost sight of and forgotten. Here the rulers, whose 
derived power should represent the consensus of the 
people, affect to be greater than those who constitute 
them, and the petty statue, raised by the great artist for 
the convenience and instruction of the crowd, spurns at 
the solid basis of the heaven-born planet, without which 
it could not stand. Rank here is not a mere conven- 
ience and classification for the encouragement of virtue 
and promotion of order. Rank here takes the place 
of virtue, and repression, its tool, takes the place of 
order. A paralysis of thought characterizes the whole 
community, for thought deprived of its legitimate re- 
sults is like the human race debarred from its productive 
functions — it becomes effete, and soon extinct. 

Abject poverty and rudeness characterize the lower 
class {basso ceto), bad taste and want of education the 
middle, utter arrogance and superficiality the upper 
class. The distinctions between one set of human 
beings and another are held to be absolute, and the in- 
feriority of opportunity, carefully preserved and exag- 
gerated, is regarded as intrinsic, not accidental. Vain 
is it to plead the democratic allowances of the Catholic 



ROME. 47 

church. The equality of man before God is here pure- 
ly abstract and disembodied. The name of God, on 
the contrary, is invoked to authorize the most flagrant 
inequalization that ignorance can prepare and institu- 
tions uphold. The finest churches, the fairest galleries, 
you will say, are open to the poorest as to the richest. 
This is true. But the man's mind is the castle and edi- 
fice of his life. Look at these rough and ragged peo- 
ple, unwashed, uncombed, untaught. See how little 
sensible they are of the decencies and amenities of life. 
Search their faces for an intelligent smile, a glance that 
recognizes beauty or fitness in any of the stately circum- 
stances that surround them. They are kept like human 
cattle, and have been so kept for centuries. And their 
dominants suppose themselves to be of one sort, and these 
of another. But give us absolutism, and take away ed- 
ucation, even in rich and roomy America, and what 
shall we have? The cruel and arrogant slaveholder, 
the vulgar and miserable poor white, the wronged and 
degraded negro. The three classes of men exist in all 
constituted society. Absolutism allows them to exist 
only in this false form. 

This race is not a poor, but a robust and kindly one. 
Inclining more to artistic illustration than to abstract 
thought, its gifts, in the hierarchy of the nations, are 
eminent and precious. Like the modern Greek, the 
modern Celt, and the modern negro, the Italian peasant 
asks a century or two of education towards modern ideas. 
And all that can be said of his want of comprehension 
only makes it the more evident that the sooner we be- 
gin, the better. 



4$ FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

It should not need, to Americans or Englishmen, to set 
out any formal argument against absolutism. Among 
them it has long since been tried and judged. Enough of 
its advocacy only remains to present that opposition 
which is the necessary basis of action. And yet a won 
to my countrymen and countrywomen, who, lingering on 
the edge of the vase, are lured by its sweets, and fall into 
its imprisonment. It is a false, false superiority t< 
which you are striving to join yourself. A prince of 
puppets is not a prince, but a puppet ; a superfluous 
duke is no dux ; a titular count does not count. Dresses, 
jewels, and equipages of tasteless extravagance ; tin 
sickly smile of disdain for simple people ; the clinging 
together, by turns eager and haughty, of a clique that 
becomes daily smaller in intention, and whose true de- 
cline consists in its numerical increase, — do not dream 
that these lift you in any true way — -in any true sense. 
For Italians to believe that it does, is natural ; for Eng- 
lishmen to believe it, is discreditable ; for Americans, 
disgraceful. 

Leaving philosophy for the moment, I must renew 
my sketchy pictures of the scenes I pass through, lest 
treacherous memory should relinquish their best traits 
unpreserved. Arrived in Rome, at a very prosaic and 
commonplace station, I had some difficulty in recog- 
nizing the front of Villa Negroni, an old papal residence 
belonging to the Massimi family, in whose wide walls 
the relatives I now visit had formerly built their nest. A 
cosy and pleasant one it was, with the view of the distant 
hills, a large entourage of gardens, a fine orange grove, 



ROME. 49 

and the neighborhood of some interesting ruins and 
churches. With all the cordiality of the old time these 
relatives now met me. My labors of baggage and con- 
veyance were ended. One leads me to the carriage, 
where another waits to receive me. Time has been in- 
dulgent, we think, to both of us, for each finds the other 
little changed. 

And now we begin in earnest to tread the fairy land 
of dreams. Here are the Quattro Fontane, there is the 
Quirinal, yonder the dome of domes. We thread the 
streets in which I used to hunt for small jewelry and 
pictures at a bargain, enacting the part of the prodigal 
son, and providing a dinner of husks for the sake of a feast 
of gewgaws. A certain salutary tingling of shame visits 
my cheeks at the remembrance of the same. I find the 
personage of those days poor and trivial. But here is 
the Forum of Trajan, and soon we drive within a pala- 
tial doorway, and our guides lead us up a stately marble 
staircase — a long ascent ; but we pause finally, and a 
great door opens, and they say, Welcome ! We are now 
at home. 

Through a long hall we go, and through a sweep of 
apartments unmatchable in Fifth Avenue, at least in 
architectural dignity, seconded by rich and measured 
taste — green parlor, crimson parlor, drab parlor, the 
lady's room, the signore's room$ the children's room. 
And in the guest-chamber I confronted my small and 
dusty sel£ in the glass — small, not especially in my 
human proportions. But the whole of my modest 
house in B. Place would easily, as to solid contents, 

4 



50 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

lodge in the largest of those lofty rooms. The Place 
itself would equally lodge in the palace. I regard my 
re-found friends with wonder, and expect to see them 
execute some large and stately manoeuvre, indicating 
their possession of all this space. 

And now, dinner served in irreproachable style, and 
waited on by two young men whose air and deportment 
would amply justify their appearance at Papanti's Hall 
on any state occasion. We soon grow used to their 
polite services ; but at first Mario and Giuseppe some- 
what intimidate us. 

And after dinner, talk of old times and old friends, 

question of this region and the other, the cold limbo as 

to weather, whence we come. Long and familiar is 

our interchange of facts, and sleep comes too soon, yet 

is welcome. 

St. Peter's. 

The first day in Rome sees us pursuing the phantom 
of the St. Peter ceremonies, for all of which, tickets 
have been secured for us. Solid fact as the performance 
of the functions remains, for us it assumes a forcible 
unreality, through the impeding intervention of black 
dresses and veils, with what should be women under them. 
But as these creatures push like battering-rams, and 
caper like he-goats, we shall prefer to adjourn the 
question of their humanity, and to give it the benefit 
of a doubt. -We must except, however, our country- 
women from dear Boston, who were not seen otherwise 
than decently and in order. Into the well-remembered 
fialco we now drag the trembling neophyte, dished up 



st. peter's. 51 



in black in a manner altogether astonishing to herself. 
And we push her youthful head this way and that. " See, 
there are the cardinals ; there is the pope ; there, in 
white-capped row, sit the pilgrims. Now, the pope's 
mitre being removed, he proceeds with great state to 
wash the pilgrims' feet." But she, like sister Anne in 
the Blue Beard controversy, might reply, " I see only a 
flock of black dresses, heaped helter-skelter, the one above 
the other." Some bits of the picture she does get, 
certainly, which may thus be catalogued : " Pope's 
nose, black dress, ditto skull-cap, black dress, a touch 
of cardinal's back, black dress — and now? Bla — ck 
dre — ss, for the rest of the time. But what is this com- 
motion? For now the he-goats begin to jump in the 
most extraordinary way, racing out of the tribune as 
eagerly as they had pressed into it. Their haste is to see 
the tavola, or pilgrims' table, up stairs, where the pope 
and cardinals are to wait upon the twelve elect, whose 
foot-washing we have just tried to see. Silence, decen- 
cy, decorum — all are forgotten. One in diamonds calls 
to a friend in the crowd outside, " Hollo, Hollo ! Come 
along with us ! " and at the top of her voice. If u the 
devil take the hindmost " be the moving cause of this 
gymnastic, I would humbly suggest that, on these occa- 
sions, the devil certainly seems to be in the foremost. 
With a little suppressed grumbling, we tumble out of 
the tribune, and descend to the body of the church, 
where the double line of Swiss guards detains us so long 
as to render our tickets for the cupola, where the pil- 
grims' feast takes place, nearly useless. This detention 
seems to be entirely arbitrary ; for when, after endless 



52 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

entreaty, we are allowed to reach the door, an easy ingress 
is allowed us. And here, bit by bit, the neophyte puz- 
zles out the significance of the scene before her — a 
table set with massive golden ornaments (silver gilt at 
best), the twelve white caps behind; the great church 
dignitaries handing plates of fish, vegetables, and fruit 
towards the table ; the pope hidden behind some black 
dress or other, and a chanting of prayers or texts, we 
know not what. The whole is much like the stage ban- 
quet in Macbeth, the part of Banquo's ghost being 
played by the spirit of the Christian religion. 

And now away, away ! to the door of the Sistine 
Chapel, where the Miserere will be sung at six of the 
clock, it now being one of the same. So, in profane 
haste, we reach that door, already occupied by a small 
mob of women of the politer sort, and others. Here 
one maintains one's position till two o'clock, when the 
door opens, and, in shocking disorder, the mob enter. 
Those who keep the door exclaim, " Do not push so, 
ladies ; there is room for all." But the savageness of 
the Anglo-Saxon race has full scope to-day, not being on 
its good behavior, as at home. So the abler-bodied jam 
and cram the less athletic without stint. After falling 
harmlessly on my face, I breathe freely, and obtain an 
end seat on the long benches reserved for the unreserved 
ladies. 

And here passed three weary hours before the office be- 
gan, and another hour after that before the musical bonne 
douche, coveted by these people, and little appreciated 
by many of them, was offered to their tired acceptance. 



st. peter's. 53 

The first interval was mostly employed in the resusci- 
tating process of chawing upon such victuals as had not 
proved contraband for such an occasion. And here 
were exchanged some little amenities which revived our 
sinking hopes of the race. Biscuits, sandwiches, and 
chocolate pastilles were shared. "Muffin from the 
Hotel de Russie " was offered by a face not unknown. 
Munching thereon with thankfulness, we interrogate, and 
find with joy a Boston woman. O comfort ! be my 
friend ; and when the next black rush doth come, if fisti- 
cuffs should become general and dangerous, be so good 
as to belabor the woman who belabors me. 

The office begins at five. It consists mostly of linked 
sameness long drawn out. The chapel is by this time 
well filled with ceremonial amateurs in every sort and 
quality. Men of all nationalities, in gentlemen's dress, 
fill the seats and throng the aisle. Priests, militaires, 
and even Sisters of Charity, vary the monotony of the 
strict coat and pantaloon. Upon an upright triangle, as 
is well known, are spiked the fifteen burning candles, of 
which all, save one, must be quenched before we can 
enjoy our dear-bought Miserere, Much of our atten- 
dant zeal is concentrated upon the progress visible in 
their decline. The effect of the chanting is as square 
and monotonous as would be the laying down of so 
many musical paving-stones. We tried to peep at the 
Latin text of a book of prayers in the hand of a priest 
on our left ; but the pitiless Swiss guard caused him and 
his Breviary to move on, and this resource was lost. 
About half way through the office, a pause came over 



54 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

matters, very unwelcome to our hurry. A door on the 
left of the altar opened, and the pope entered, preceded 
by his guard. He walked to his throne on the right of 
the altar, and the chanting was resumed. Some time 
before this, however, the treni or lamentations were 
sung. These were chanted in a high voice, neither 
fresh nor exact, and did not make on me the impression 
of sixteen years ago. The extinguishing of the candles 
was a slow agony, the intervals appearing endless. 
Finally, all the lights were out. The one burning 
taper which represented Christ was removed out of 
sight, the pope sank upon his knees before the altar, 
and the verses of the Miserere were sung. Twilight 
and fixed attention prevailed through the chapel, whose 
vaulted roof lends a certain magic of its own to the 
weird chant. Yet, with the remembrance of sixteen 
years since, and with present judgment, I am inclined 
to consider the supremacy of the Miserere a musical 
superstition. I know not what critical convictions its 
literal study would develop, but, as I heard it, much 
of it seemed out of tune, and deformed by other than 
musical discords. The soprani, without exception, 
were husky, and strained their voices to meet the highest 
effects. The vaulted roof, indeed, gives a lovely scope to 
such melody as there is. The dim, majestic frescos, 
which you still feel, though you see them no longer, — 
the brilliancy and variety of the company, its tempo- 
rary stillness, — all these circumstances in this ne plus 
ultra of the Roman aesthetic combine to impress you. 
But the kneeling pontiff and his cardinals did not ap- 



SUPPER OF THE PILGRIMS. 55 

pear to me invested with any true priesthood. I could 
feel no religious sympathy with their movements, which 
seemed a show, and part of a show — nothing more. 
And when the verses were all sung, and the shuffling of 
feet at the end got through with, I staid not to see the 
procession into the Pauline Chapel, nor the adoration of 
the relics, nor the mopping of St. Peter's altar. I had 
seen enough of such sights, and, quietly wrapping the 
twilight about my discontent, I thankfully went w T here 
kindred voices and a kindred faith allowed me to claim 
the shelter of home. 

Supper of the Pilgrims. 

Faster go these shows than one can describe them. 
On Good Friday evening we attempted only to see the 
supper of the female pilgrims at the Trinita dei Pelle- 
grini. This again I undertook for the neophytes' sake, 
having myself once witnessed the august ceremony. 
Here, as everywhere at this time, we found a crowd of 
black dresses, with and without veils, which, on this 
occasion, are optional. Another mob of women, small 
but energetic ; another rush to see what, under other 
circumstances, we should hold to be but a sorry sight. 
The pilgrims are w r aited upon by an association of 
ladies, who wear a sort of feminine overall in scarlet 
cotton, nearly concealing a dress, usually black, of ordi- 
nary wear. They are also distinguished by a pictorial 
badge, representing, I think, the Easter Lamb, in some 
connection. Some of these ladies are of princely family, 
others of rank merely civic. Princess Massimo, of first- 



56 .FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

rate pretensions, keeps the inner entrance to the rites, 
and accords it only to a limited number in turn. We 
tumble down the dividing stairs in the usual indecorous 
manner, and walk through two rooms, in each of which 
the pilgrims sit with their feet in tubs of water, the at- 
tendant ladies being employed either in scrubbing them 
clean, or in wiping them dry. All were working wo- 
men from the country, their faces mostly empty of 
thought and rude with toil. Some of the heads were 
not without character, and w r ould easily have made, 
with their folded head-dresses, a genre picture. In 
general, they and their attire were as rough and unin- 
teresting as women and their belongings can be. A 
number of them carried infants, whose appearance also 
invited the cleansing ministration, which did not include 
them. In either room an ecclesiastic recited prayers in 
Latin, and a pretty young lady at intervals rattled a box, 
the signal for the participants to make the sign of the 
cross, which they did in a business-like manner. From 
this lavanda we passed to other rooms, in which the 
supper tables were in process of preparation. The ma- 
terials for the meal were divided into portions. To each 
one was allotted a plate of salad and sardines, one of 
bacala, or fried salt fish, two small loaves of bread, and 
a little pitcher of wine, together with figs and oranges. 
The red-gowned ministrants bestirred themselves in di- 
viding and arranging these portions, with much appar- 
ent good nature. Many of them wore diamond earrings, 
and one young lady, whom we did not see at work, was 
adorned as to the neck with a rich collar of jewelled 



SUPPER OF THE PILGRIMS. 57 

lockets, an article of the latest fashion. All of these 
ladies are supposed to be princesses, but several of them 
talked house-gossip in homely Italian. To us the time 
seemed long, but at length arrived the minestra in a 
huge kettle. This universal Italian dish is a watery- 
soup, containing a paste akin to macaroni. And now 
the pilgrims, having had all the washing they could en- 
dure, came in to take possession of the goods prepared 
for them. Those of the same family tried to sit together, 
but did not always manage to do so. For every babe 
a double portion is allowed, and the coin (ten cents) 
received at departure is also doubled. We had feared 
lest the pilgrims might have found the presence of num- 
bers a source of embarassment. But it did not prove 
so. They attacked their victuals with the most practi- 
cal and evident enjoyment. The babies were fed with 
minestra, fish, salad, and wine. Of these one was two 
weeks old, and its mother had walked four days to get 
to Rome. Each pilgrim carried either a bottle or a tin 
canteen, into which the superior waiting-women decant- 
ed the wine allowed, that they might carry it home with 
them. A Latin grace was rehearsed before they fell to. 
Cardinals and monsignori were seen, here and there, 
talking with friends among the spectators. Observing 
that pilgrims eat much like other people, we left them 
still at table, and came away, to find the Prince Massimo 
in pink cotton, at the bottom of the staircase, and a 
stupid Swiss, with ill-managed bayonet, guarding the 
outer entrance. He, a raw recruit, carried his weapon 
as carelessly as a lady w T aves a bouquet. Close to the 



58 FROM THE 'OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

eye of the neophyte he thrusts it, through inattention. 

A scream from me makes her aware of the danger, but 

affects him not. Under the weight of my objurgation 

he falters not, but makes a vehement pass at a harmless 

dog, which runs by unhurt. And my reflections 

upon his sheer brutishness were the closing ones of 

the day. 

Easter. 

St. Peter's on Easter called us with the magical sum- 
mons of the silver trumpets, blown at the elevation of 
the host, and remembered by me through these sixteen 
years. To the tribunes, however, I did not betake my- 
self, but, armed with a camp stool, wandered about the 
church, getting now a coup d'ceil, now a whiff of har- 
mony. The neophytes had our tickets, and beheld the 
ceremonies, which, once seen, are of little interest t< 
those to whom they are not matters of religion. Th< 
pope and cardinals officiate at high mass, with the mu- 
sic of the Sistine singers. The pope drinks of the con- 
secrated cup through a golden tube, the cup itself hav- 
ing previously been tasted of by one commissions 
for the purpose. This feature clearly indicates the rec- 
ognized possibility of poison. It is probably not ob- 
served by most of those present, who have, after all, but 
a glimpse of what passes. The effect of the trumpets 
is certainly magical. The public has no knowledge of 
their whereabouts, and the sound seems to fall from 
some higher region. Having enjoyed this aesthetic 
moment, one hurries out into the piazza in front of the 
church, where a great assemblage waits to receive the 
papal benediction. Here seats and balconies can be 



EASTER. 59 

hired, and a wretched boy screeches, "Ecco luoghi" for 
half an hour, as if he had a watchman's rattle in his 
head. At last the blessed father in his palanquin is borne 
to that upper window of the church, over which the 
white canopy rests : his mitres are all arranged before 
him. The triple crown, glittering with jewels, is on 
his head; On either side of him flutter the peacock 
fans. Cannons clear the way for his utterance, and 
holding up two fingers, he recites the apostolic benedic- 
tion in a voice of remarkable distinctness and power. 
It is received by good Catholics on their knees. An- 
other cannon shot closes the performance, and at the 
same moment two or three papers, containing indul- 
gences, fall from the pontiff's hand. Then the crowd dis- 
perses, and you yourself, having witnessed " the most 
impressive ceremony in the world," become chiefly oc- 
cupied with the getting home, the crowd of carriages 
being very great, and the bridge of St. Angelo reserved 
for the passage of the legni firivzlegiati. And on the 
way, query as to this impressiveness. If one could sup- 
pose that the pope had any special blessing to bestow, 
or that he thought he had, one would certainly be desi- 
rous and grateful to share in it. If one could consider 
him as consecrated by anything better than a supersti- 
tion for anything better than the priestly maintenance 
of an absolute rule, one might look in his kindly old 
face with a feeling stronger than that of personal good- 
will or indifference. But I, standing to see and hear 
him, was in the position of Macbeth. 

" I had most need of blessing, but Amen 
Stuck in my throat." 



60 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

And I concluded that common sense, common jus- 
tice, and civil and religious liberty, — the noblest gifts 
of the past and promises of the future, — had been 
quite long enough 

" Butchered to make a Roman holiday." 

As for the evening illumination, it was just as I re- 
member it on two former occasions, separated from this 
and from each other by long intervals. A magical and 
unique spectacle it certainly is, with the well-known 
change from the paper lanterns to the flaring lampions. 
Costly is it of human labor, and perilous to human life. 
And when I remembered that those employed in it re- 
ceive the sacrament beforehand, in order that immi- 
nent death may not find them out of a state of grace, I 
thought that its beauty did not so much signify. 

We have a dome, too, in Washington. The Genius of 
Liberty poises on its top ; the pediment below it is 
adorned with the emblems of honest thrift and civic pros- 
perity. May that dome perish ere it be lit at the risk of 
human life, and lit, like this, to make the social dark- 
ness around it more evident by its momentary aureole. 

Works of Art. 

Enough of shows. Galleries and studios are better. 
Rome is rich in both, and with a sort of studious con- 
tentment, one embraces one's Murray, picks out the pal- 
ace that unfolds its art treasures to-day, and travels up 
the stairs, and along the marble corridors, to wonderful 
suites of apartments, in which the pasteboard pro- 
grammes lie about waiting for you, while the still drama 



WORKS OF ART. 6 1 

of the pictures acts itself upon the thronged wall, your- 
self their small public, and they giving their color-elo- 
quence, whether any one gives heed or not. 

They are precious, the Colonna, Doria, Sciarra, Bor- 
ghese, and we have seen them. We have picked out 
our old favorites, and have carried the neophytes before 
them, saying, " I saw this, dear, before you were born." 
But this past, whose reflex fold inwraps us, does not 
exist for the neophytes, who look at it as out of a mo- 
ment's puzzle, and then conclude to begin their own 
business on their own responsibility, without any refer- 
ence to these outstanding credits of ours. 

Of the pictures it is little useful to speak. Your de- 
scription enables no one to see them, and the narration 
of the feelings they excite in you is as likely to be tedious 
as interesting to those who cultivate feelings of their 
own. Copies and engravings have done here what you 
cannot do, and the best subjects are familiar to art stu- 
dents and lovers in all countries. A little sigh of pleas- 
ure may be allowed you at this, your third sight of the 
Francias, the Raphaels, Titian's Bella, Claude's land- 
scapes, and the scientific Leonardo's heavily-labored 
heads and groups. But do not therefore put the trumpet 
to your lips, and blow that sigh across the ocean, to 
claim the attention of ears that invite the lesson for the 
day. The lesson for this day is not written on canvas, 
and though it may be read everywhere in the world, you 
will scarcely find its clearest type in Rome. 

And here, perhaps, I may as well carry further the phi-^ 
losophizing which I began a week ago with regard to 
the objects and resources of Roman life, and their com- 



62 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

patibility with the thoughts and pursuits most dear and 
valuable to Americans. 

Art is, of course, the only solid object which an 
American can bring forward to justify a prolonged resi- 
dence in Rome. Art, health, and official duty, are 
among the valid reasons which bring our countrymen 
abroad. Two of these admit of no argument. The 
sick have a right, other things permitting, to go where 
they can be bettered ; a duty perhaps, to go where the 
sum of their waning years and wasting activities admits 
of multiplication. Those who live abroad as ministers 
and consuls have a twofold opportunity of benefiting 
their country. If honest and able, they may benefit her 
by their presence in foreign lands ; if unworthy and 
incompetent, by their absence from home. But our ar- 
tists are those whose expatriation gives us most to think 
about. They take leave of us either in the first bloom 
or in the full maturity of their powers. The ease of 
living in Southern Europe, the abundance of models and 
of works of art, the picturesque charms of nature and of 
scenery, detain them forever from us, and, save for an 
abstract sentiment, which itself weakens with every 
year, the sacred tie of country is severed. Its sensibili- 
ties play no part in these lives devoted to painting and 
modelling. 

Now, an eminent gift for art is an exceptional circum- 
stance. He who has it weds his profession, leaves 
father and mother, and goes where his slowly-unfold- 
ing destiny seems to call him. Against such a 
course we have no word to say. It presents itself as a 



WORKS OF ART. 63 

necessary conclusion to earnest and noble men, who 
love not their native country less, but their votive coun- 
try more. Of the first and its customs they would still 

say,— 

" I cannot but remember such things were 

That were most precious to me." 

Yet of this career, so often coveted by those to whom 
its attainment does not open, I cannot speak in terms 
of supreme recognition. The office of art is always as 
precious as its true ministers are rare. But the rela- 
tive importance of sculptural and pictorial art is not 
to-day what it was in days of less thought, of smaller 
culture. Every one who likes the Bible to-day, likes it 
best without illustrations. Were Christ here to speak 
anew, he would speak without parables. In ruder 
times, heavenly fancies could only be illustrated on the 
one hand, received on the other, through the mediation 
of a personal embodiment. Only through human sym- 
pathy was the assent to divine truth obtained. The 
necessity which added a feminine personality to the 
worship of Christ, and completed the divided Godhead 
by making it female as well as male, was a philosophi- 
cal one, but not recognized as such. The device of the 
Virgin was its practical result, counterbalancing the 
partiality of the one-sided personal culte of the Savior. 
Modern religious thought gets far beyond this, makes 
in spiritual things no distinction of male and female, 
and does not apply sex to the Divine, save in the most 
vague and poetic sense. The inner convictions of 
heart and conscience may now be spoken in plain 



64 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

prose, or sung in ringing verse. The vates, prophet 
or reformer, may proclaim his system and publish his 
belief; and his audience will best apprehend it in its 
simplest and most direct form. The wide spaces of the 
new continent allow room for the most precious practi- 
cal experimentation ; and speculative and theoretical 
liberty keep pace with liberty of action. The only 
absolute restraint, the best one, is a moral one. " Thou 
shalt not" applies only to what is intrinsically inhu- 
man and profane. And now, there is no need to puz- 
zle simple souls with a marble gospel. Faith needs not 
to digest whole side-walls of saints and madonnas, who 
once stood for something, no one now knows what. 
The Italian school was to art what the Greek school 
was to literature — an original creation and beginning. 
But life has surpassed Plato and Aristotle. We are 
forced to piece their short experiences, and to say to 
both, " You are matchless, but insufficient." And so, 
though Raphael's art remains immortal and unsur- 
passed, we are forced to say of his thought, " It is too 
small." No one can settle, govern, or moralize a coun- 
try by it. It will not even suffice to reform Italy. The 
golden transfigurations hang quiet on the walls, and let 
pope and cardinal do their worst. We want a world 
peopled with faithful and intelligent men and women. 
The Prometheus of the present day is needed rather to 
animate statues than to make them. 



piazza navona — the tombola. 65 

Piazza Navona — The Tombola. 

When, O, when does the bee make his honey? Not 
while he is sipping from flower to flower, levying his 
dainty tribute as lightly as love — enriching the world 
with what the flower does not miss, and cannot. 

This question suggests itself in the course of these 
busy days in Rome, where pleasures are offered oftener 
than sensibilities can ripen, and the edge of appetite is 
blunted with sweets, instead of rusting with disuse. In 
these scarce three weeks how much have we seen, how 
little recorded and described ! So sweet has been the 
fable, that the intended moral has passed like an act in 
a dream — a thing of illusion and intention, not of fact. 
Impotent am I, indeed, to describe the riches of this 
Roman world, — its treasures, its pleasures, its flat- 
teries, its lessons. Of so much that one receives, one 
can give again but the smallest shred, — a leaf of each 
flower, a scrap of each garment, a proverb for a ser- 
mon, a stave for a song. So be it ; so, perhaps, is it 
best. 

Last Sunday I attended a Tombola at Piazza Navo- 
na — not a state lottery, but a private enterprise brought 
to issue in the most public manner. I know the Piazza 
of old. Sixteen years since I made many a pilgrimage 
thither, in search of Roman trash. I was not then past 
the poor amusement of spending money for the sake of 
spending it. The foolish things I brought home moved 
the laughter of my little Roman public. I appeared in 
public with some forlorn brooch or dilapidated earring ; 

5 



66 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

the giddy laughed outright, and the polite gazed quietly. 
My rooms were the refuge of all broken-down vases 
and halting candelabra. I lived on the third floor of a 
modest lodging, and all the wrecks of art that neither 
first, second, nor fourth would buy, found their way 
into my parlor, and staid there at my expense. I re- 
call some of these adornments to-day. Two heroes, in 
painted wood, stood in my dark little entry. A gouty 
Cupid in bas-relief encumbered my mantel-piece. Two 
forlorn figures in black and white glass recalled the 
auction w^hose unlucky prize they had been. And Hor- 
ace Wallace, coming to talk of art and poetry, on my 
red sofa, sometimes saluted me with a paroxysm of 
merriment, provoked by the sight of my last purchase. 
Those days are not now. Of their accumulations I 
retain but a fragment or two. Of their delights remain 
a tender memory, a childish wonder at my own child- 
ishness. To-day, in heathen Rome, I can find better 
amusements than those shards and rags were ever able 
to represent. 

Going now to Piazza Navona with a sober and rea- 
sonable companion, I scarcely recognize it. At the 
Braschi Palace, which borders it, we pause, and enter 
to observe the square hall and the fine staircase of pol- 
ished marble. This palace is now offered in a lottery, 
at five francs the ticket ; and all orders in Rome, no 
doubt, participate in the venture it presents. The 
immense piazza is so filled and thronged with people 
that its distinctive features are quite lost. Its numerous 
balconies are crowded with that doubtful community 



PIAZZA NAVONA THE TOMBOLA. 67 

comprehended in the title of the " better class." From 
many of its windows hang the red cotton draperies, 
edged with gilt lace, which supply so much of the color 
in Roman festas. Soldiers are everywhere mingled 
with the crowd, so skilfully as to present no contrast 
with them, but so effectually that any popular disorder 
would be instantly suppressed. The dragoons, mounted 
and bearing sabres, are seen here and there in the 
streets leading to the piazza. These constitute the 
police of Rome ; and where with us a civil man w T ith a 
badge interposes himself and says, " No entrance here, 
sir," in Rome an arbitrary, ignorant beast, mounted 
upon a lesser brute, waves his sabre at you, shrieks un- 
intelligible threats and orders, and has the pleasure of 
bringing your common sense to a fault, and of making 
all understanding of what is or is not to be done impos- 
sible. Their greatest glory, however, culminates on 
public festas, when there are foreigners as well as 
Romans to be intimidated. ■ At the Tombola they are 
only an en cas. 

Well, the office of the Tombola is solemnized upon 
a raised stage, whereon stand divers officials, two 
seedy trumpeters, and a small boy in fancy costume, 
whose duty soon becomes apparent. Before him rests 
a rotatory machine, composed of two disks of glass, 
bound together by a band of brass : this urn of fate 
revolves upon a pivot, and is provided with an opening, 
through which the papers bearing the numbers are put 
in, to be drawn out, one by one, after certain revolu- 
tions of the machine. Not quite so fast, however, 



68 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

with your drawing. The numbers are not all in yet. A 
grave man, in a black coat, holds up each number to 
the public view, calls it in his loudest tones, and then 
hands it to another, who folds and slips it into the recep- 
tacle. When all of the numbers have been verified and 
deposited, the opening is closed up, the trumpeters sound 
a bar or two, the wheel revolves, the fancy boy paws the 
air with his right hand, puts the hand into the opening, 
and draws forth a number, which the second black coat 
presents to the first, who unfolds it, and announces it to 
the multitude. At the same moment, a huge card, some 
two feet square in dimensions, is placed in a frame, and 
upon this we read the number just drawn out. The 
number is also shown upon several large wooden 
frames in other parts of the square. Upon these it 
remains, so that the whole countof the drawing may be 
apparent to the eager public. This course of action is 
repeated until a stir in one part of the piazza announces 
a candidate for one of the smaller prizes. A white flag, 
repeated at all the counting frames, arrests the public 
attention. The candidate brings forward his ticket and 
is examined. Finally, a quaterna is announced, formed 
by the agreement of four numbers on a ticket with four 
in the order of the drawing. The crowd applaud, the 
trumpets sound again, and the drawing proceeds. Un- 
happily, at one moment the persons on duty forget to 
close the valve through which the numbers are taken 
out. The omission is not perceived until several rota- 
tions have shaken out many of the precious papers. A 
roar of indignation is heard from the populace ; the 



PIAZZA NAVONA THE TOMBOLA. 69 

wheel is arrested, the numbers eagerly sought, counted, 
and replaced, under the jealous scrutiny of the public 
eye. Meanwhile, one of two copious brass bands, pro- 
vided with five ophicleides each, and cornets, etc., to 
match, discoursed tarantellas and polkas. And we see 
the quinquina (formed by five numbers) drawn, and 
then the first Tombola, and the second. And lo ! there 
are four tombolas: but we await them not. But in all 
this crowd, busy with emotion and reeking with tobacco 
and Roman filth in all its varieties, who shall interest 
us like the limonaro with his basket of fruit, his bottles 
of water, his lemon squeezer, and his eager thrifty coun- 
tenance? A father of family, surely, he loves no plays 
as thou dost, Anthony. Pale, in shirt sleeves, he keeps 
the sharpest lookout for a customer, and in voice whose 
measure is not to be given, hammers out his endless 
sentence, " Chi vuol here ? Ecco, il limonaro" To the 
most doubtful order he responds, carrying his glasses 
into the thickest of the throng, and thundering, " Chi 
ha comandato questo limone ? For half a bajoco he 
gives a quarter of a lemon, wrung out in a glass of 
tepid water, which his customers absorb with relish. 
Sometimes he varies this procedure by the sale- of an 
orzata, produced by pouring a few drops of a milky 
fluid into a glass of water. On our way from the 
piazza we encounter other limonari, — dark, sleepy, 
Italian, not trenchant nor incisive in their offers. But 
our man, a blond, yet remains a picture to us, with 
his business zeal and economy of time. A thread of 
good blood he possibly has. We adopt and pity him 
as a misplaced Yankee. 



70 from the oak to the olive. 

Sundays in Rome. 

Our first Sunday in Rome was Easter, in St. Peter's, 
of which we have elsewhere given a sufficient descrip- 
tion. Our second was divided between the Tombola 
just described, in the afternoon, and the quiet of the 
American Chapel in the morning. We found this an 
upper chamber, quietly and appropriately furnished, 
with a pleasant and well-dressed attendance of friends 
and fellow country-people. The prayers of the Episco- 
pal service were simply read, with no extra formality 
or aping of more traditional forms. It was pleasant to 
find ourselves called upon once more to pray for the 
President of the United States, although in our own 
country he is considered as past praying for. Still, 
we remembered the old adage, " while there is life 
there is hope," and were able, with a good conscience, 
to beseech that he might be plenteously endowed with 
heavenly grace, although the reception of such a gift 
might seriously compromise him with his own party. 
The sermon, like others we have heard of late, shows 
a certain progress and liberalization even in the hold- 
ing of the absolute tenets which constitute what has 
been hitherto held as orthodoxy. In our youth, the 
Episcopal church, like the orthodox dissenters, preached 
atonement, atonement, atonement, wrath of God, birth 
in sin, — position of sentimental reprobation towards 
the one fact, of unavailing repentance concerning 
the other. The doctrine of atonement in those days 
was as literal in the Protestant church as in the 



SUNDAYS IN ROME. *] I 

Catholic, while the possibility of profiting by it was 
hedged about and encumbered by frightful perils and 
intangible difficulties. But to-day, while these doc- 
trines are not repudiated by the denominations which 
then held them, they are comparatively set out of sight. 
The charity and diligence of Paul are preached, and 
even the sublime theistic simplicity of Jesus is not 
altogether contraband ; though he, alas ! is as little 
understood in doctrine as followed in example. For 
he has hitherto been like a beautiful figure set to 
point out a certain way, and people at large have 
been so entranced w T ith worshipping the figure, that 
they have neglected to follow the direction it indicates. 

Well, our American sermon was dry, but sensible and 
conscientious. It did not congratulate those who had 
accepted the mysterious atonement, nor threaten those 
who had neglected to do so. But it exhorted all men 
towards a reasonable, religious, and diligent life, and 
thus afforded the commonplace man a basis for effort, 
and a possible gradual amelioration of his moral con- 
dition. One little old-fashioned phrase, however, the 
preacher let slip. He cast a slight slur upon the moral, 
as distinguished from the religious man. Now, mod- 
ern ethics do not recognize this distinction. For it, 
true morals are religion. He who exemplifies the 
standard does it more honor than he who praises, and 
pursues it not. And he who prays and plunders is 
less a saint than he who does neither. We passed 
this, however, and went away in peace. 

Our third Sunday morning was passed in S. An- 



<a 



72 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

drea della Valle, a large and sumptuous church, where 
we had been promised a fine messa-cantata, i. e., a 
mass performed principally in music. Mustafa, of 
the pope's choir, was there, with some ten other vo- 
calists, who put into their Kyrie, Miserere^ and so 
on, as much operatic emphasis and cadence as the 
bars could hold. The organ was harsh, loud, and over- 
powering, the music utterly uninteresting. Mustafa's 
renowned voice, which has suffered by time and use, 
has something nasal and criard in it, with all its power. 
He still takes and holds A and B with firmness and per- 
sistence, but his middle notes are unequal and husky. 
Although the sopranos of to-day are merely falsetto 
tenors*, and their unsexed voices a fiction, they yet ac- 
quire in process of time a tone of old-woman quality, 
which contrasts strangely with their usually robust ap- 
pearance. On this occasion we did not conjecture 
whose might be the music to which we listened. It 
had a mongrel paternity, and hailed from no noble race 
of compositions. Having, however, our comfortable 
chairs, and being out of the murderous direct rever- 
beration of the organ, we sat and saw as outsiders the 
flux and reflux of life which passed through the church. 
It was obviously, this morning, a place of fashionable 
resort ; and many were the good dresses and comforta- 
ble family groups that first appeared, and then were 
absorbed among its crowded chairs and their occupants. 
The well-dressed people were mostly, I thought, of 
medio ceto, — middling class, — which in Rome is a 
term of strict reprobation, and answers to what we 



SUNDAYS IN ROME. 73 

used to call Bowery in New York. Their devotion had 
mostly a business-like aspect. They hired their chair, 
brought it, sat down, made their crosses and courtesies, 
accompanied the priest with their books, went down on 
their knees at the elevation of the host, had benediction, 
and went. Mass was taking place at various side altars, 
and people were coming and going, as their devotions 
were past or future. Dirty and shabby figures mingled 
with the others ; a group of little children from the 
street, holding each other by the hand ; a crippled old 
woman, hobbling on two crutches, who, wonderfully, 
did not beg, of us at least ; an elderly dwarf, of com- 
posed aspect, some thirty-eight inches high, who took a 
chair, but could not get into it, so squatted down beside 
it, and stared at us. A loud bell was rung, and one in 
yellow satin bore an object under yellow satin across 
the church. This was the sacrament, going to one of 
the altars for the beginning of the mass. Having mused 
sufficiently on the music and on the crowd, we desired 
to hear a Puritan sermon, and, there being none to be 
had, we went away. 

Away to the Farnesina Palace, lovely with Raphael's 
frescos of Galatea and the story of Psyche, with Mi- 
chael Angelo's grim charcoal head looming in the dis- 
tance. The Psyche series has suffered much by resto- 
rations ; and though the gracious outline and designs 
remain, the coloring, one thinks, is far other than that 
of the master. The Galatea has faded less, and has 
been less restored. The lovely Sodoma fresco up stairs 
— the family of Darius — was undergoing repairs, and 



74 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

could not be seen. The palace belongs to the ex-king 
of Naples. It was formerly visible at all times, but 
may now be seen only on Sunday. He himself now 
lives in Rome, and perhaps chooses to tread its banquet 
halls deserted, which possibly accounts for the present 
restriction. In the afternoon we were bidden to see the 
embalmed remains of an ancient pontiff, — Pius V., — 
who should be happy to make himself useful to Catho- 
lic institutions at a period so remote from the intentions 
of Nature. The old body is shown in a glass case, 
upon an altar of Santa Maria Maggiore. He lies on 
his side, his darkened face adorned by a new white 
beard composed of lamb's wool. His hands are con- 
cealed by muslin gloves ; his garments are white, and 
he wears a brilliant mitre. And the devout crowd the 
church to touch and kiss the glass case in which he 
resides. There is, moreover, a procession of the cruci- 
fix, and vespers are sung in pleasing style by a tolerable 
choir ; and many ftauls and bajocs are dropped hither 
and thither in pious receptacles by the pious in heart. 
So, I repeat it, the mummied pope, sainted also, is of 

use. 

Catacombs. 

Of all that befell us in the catacombs we may not 
tell. We betook ourselves to the neighborhood of St. 
Calixtus one afternoon. A noted ecclesiastic of the 
Romish church soon joined our party, with various of 
our countrymen and countrywomen. He wore a white 
woollen gown and a black hat. Before descending, 
he ranged us in a circle, and harangued us much as 
follows : — 



CATACOMBS. 75 

" You will ask me the meaning of the word i cata- 
comb,' and I shall tell you that it is derived from two 
Greek words — cata, hidden, and cittnba, tomb. You 
have doubtless heard that the whole city of Rome is 
undermined with catacombs ; but this is not true. The 
American Encyclopaedia says this. I have read the arti- 
cle. But intramural burials were not allowed in Rome ; 
therefore the catacombs commence outside the walls. 
They are, moreover, limited to an irregular extent of 
some three miles. Why is this? It is because they 
were possible only in the tufa formation. Why only in 
the tufa? Because it cuts easily and crumbles easily, 
hardening afterwards. And as the burials of the Chris- 
tians w r ere necessarily concealed, it was important for 
them to deal with a material easily worked and easily 
disposed of. The solid contents of the catacombs of 
Rome could be included within a square mile ; their 
series, if arranged at full length, would not measure less 
than five hundred miles. In some places there are no 
less than seven strata of tombs, one below the other." 
All of this, with more repetitions than I can possibly 
signify, was delivered under the cogent stimulus of a 
roasting afternoon sun of the full Roman power. Being 
quite calcined as to the head and shoulders, we some- 
what thankfully undertook the descent. The extreme 
contrast, however, between the outer heat and the inner 
chill and damp, proved an unwelcome alternative to 
most of us. Had we been allowed a somewhat brisk 
motion, we should have dreaded less its effects. But 
Father fought his ground inch by inch, and con- 



76 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

tinued to carry on a stringent controversy with imagi- 
nary antagonists. We will not endeavor to transcribe 
the catechism, at once tedious and amusing, with which 
he held captive a dozen of Yankees prepared to sell 
their lives dearly, but uncertain how to deal with his 
mode of warfare. He kept us long in the crypt of the 
pontiffs, where are found two fragments of marble tab- 
lets bearing names in mingled Latin and Greek charac- 
ter. One inscription records, " Anteros efiiscopus" 
The other is of another name — " episcopus et martyr P 
The father now led us into a narrow crypt, where his 
stout form wedged us all as closely as possible together. 
He showed us on the walls two time-worn frescos, one 
of which — -Jonah and the whale — represented the resur- 
rection, while the other depicted that farewell ban- 
quet at Emmaus in which Peter received the thrice- 
repeated charge, "Feed my sheep." To this symbolical 
expression the father added one later and more puz- 
zling. The fish which appeared in one of the dishes 
represented, he told us, the anagram of Christ in the 
Greek language — icthus, the fish, yesus Christos theos 
— I forget the rest. The fish was the only hint of 
the presence of Christ on this occasion, and its signifi- 
cance could be apprehended only with this explana- 
tion. These pictures, he insisted, sufficiently showed 
us that the early Christians had religious images — a 
point of great authority and significance in the Catholic 
church, for us how easily disposed of! The pictures 
and the symbolism of the primitive church are both 
alike features of its time. In periods when culture is 



CATACOMBS. 77 

rare and limited, the picture and the parable have their 
indispensable office. The one preserves and presents 
to the eye much that would otherwise be overlooked 
and forgotten ; the other presents to the mind that which 
could not otherwise be apprehended. The painted 
Christs, Madonnas, and so on, were in their time a gos- 
pel to the common people. Even in Raphael's period, 
even in the Italy of to-day, how few of the populace at 
large are able to save their souls by reading the New 
Testament ! The paintings undoubtedly answered a 
useful purpose, as all men must acknowledge ; but the 
Catholic system, carried out in its completeness, would 
give a melancholy perpetuity to the class of people who 
cannot read otherwise than in pictures. Even where it 
teaches to read, it withholds the power of interpreta- 
tion. Protestantism means direct and general instruc- 
tion. It gives to the symbolism of the Bible its plainest 
and most practical interpretation, without building upon 
it a labyrinth of types whose threading asks the study 
of a lifetime. 

The fear and danger of early times had, no doubt, 
much to do with the growth of symbolism, both in pic- 
tures and in language. The intercourse of the early 
Christians was limited and insecure. It was guarded 
by watchwords. Its bodily presence took refuge in 
pits and caves. Its thought buried itself in similitudes 
and allusions. But now, when Christianity has become 
the paramount demand of the world, this obscurity is 
no longer needed nor legitimate. 

The parables of Christ may be supposed to have had 



78 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

a double object. The most usually recognized is that 
of popular instruction, in the form best suited to the 
comprehension of his hearers. Many of his sayings, 
however, puint to another meaning; viz., the discrimi- 
nation between those who were fitted to receive his doc- 
trine, and those who were not. How many, among the 
multitudes who heard him, can we suppose to have been 
anxious about the moral lessons intended by his illustri- 
ous fables? Few indeed; and those few alone would 
be able to understand his teaching, and, in turn, to 
teach according to his method. So he represents the 
kingdom of heaven which he preached as a net thrown 
into the sea. His sermons were such castings of the 
net ; he made his disciples fishers of men. The Chris- 
tian church, like the Jewish, rapidly degenerated into a 
tissue of legends and observances — at first representa- 
tive of morality, soon cumbrous, finally inimical to it. 
All this time, however, we are standing wedged by 

Father in a narrow compass, and, while the 

thought of one undertakes this long, swift retrospect, the 
temper of the others becomes irritated — not without 
reason. So we insist upon breaking out of the small 
quadrangle, and are led into the crypt in which were 
found the remains of St. Cecilia. Here tradition again 
holds a long parley with the representatives of modern 
thought. St. Cecilia, a noble Roman lady, was be- 
headed, but survived the stroke of the executioner three 
days, which she occupied in describing and explaining 
the doctrine of the trinity. (This, therefore, is the doc- 
trine of those who have lost their head.) For this 



CATACOMBS. 79 

purpose she employed two fingers of the right hand 
and one of the left. All of this passes without contro- 
versy. Her body was found lying on its face, in an 
attitude perpetuated by the well-known statue in the 
church in Trastevere. But in this crypt are' the relics 
of an altar, erected over the remains of another saint. 
The early Christian altars, our guide says, were always 
erected above the burial-place of some saint. Hence, no 
Catholic church is allowed to dispense with the presence 
of consecrated bones. Other graves, moreover, cluster 
around that which is supposed to have consecrated this 
altar : sums of money were paid for the privilege of 
interment in this proximity. This clearly shows the 
early Christians to have supposed that the saint himself 
had the power to benefit them, and the right of inter- 
cession. This we concede as quite possible; but 
does this go to show, O father, that the saint had any 
such power ? Let us go back after this fashion in other 
things. Fingers were made before knives and forks, 
skins were worn before tissues, and nakedness is of 
earlier authority than either. A predatory existence 
has older precedent than agriculture or commerce. Let 
us go backward like a crab, if you will, but let us be 
consistent. 

In another crypt we are shown two marble sarcoph- 
agi, well carved, in each of which lies a mouldering 
human figure once embalmed, and now black, without 
features, and with only a dim outline of form. Else- 
where we are shown a large marble slab handsomely 
engraved, with the record of a Christian martyr on one 



8o FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

side, and with an inscription concerning the Emperor 
Hadrian on the other, presenting the economic expe- 
dient of a second-hand tombstone. We passed also 
through various dark galleries, and down one staircase. 
Some chambers of the catacomb had a luminarium, or 
light from the top ; many of them were entirely dark. 
Father 's style of explanation threatening to pro- 
long itself till midnight, impatience became general, and 
one of our party ventured a remonstrance, which was 
made and met something after the following fashion : — 

Mr, F. Hem — hem! Sir, I am old and infirm, 
and — 

Father . O, sir, ask any questions you like. 

The more you ask, the better I can explain myself. 
(Repeated over some three times.) 

Mr. F. But, sir, I do not wish to ask any questions. 
I only wish — 

Father . Don't make any excuses, sir. I shall 

be very glad to have you ask any questions. I am very 
ready to answer and explain everything. (Several 
repetitions.) 

After a number of efforts, the senior member of the 
party at length obtained the floor, and succeeded in 
expressing himself to the effect that he feared to take 
death of cold in the catacomb, and would gladly be 
piloted out by the commonplace youth who followed 

Father as attendant, without views of any kind, 

except as to a possible buona mano. This suggestion of 
the elder met with so hearty a response from the re- 
mainder of the party as to bring the present exploration 



VIA APPIA AND THE COLUMBARIA. 8 1 

to an end, and Father and his public simultaneously 

dispersed to carriages and horses. In view of the whole 
expedition, I would advise people in general to read 
up on the subject of the catacombs, but not to visit them 
in company with one intent on developing theories of 
any kind. The underground chill is unwholesome in 
warm weather, and a conversion made in these dark 
galleries and windings would be much akin to baptism 
at the sword's point. Meet, therefore, the theorist 
above ground, and on equal terms ; and for the subter- 
raneous proceeding, elect the society of swift and 
prosaic silence. 

Via Appia and the Columbaria. 

Since my last visit to Rome, more progress has been 
made under ground than above it. Rome is the true 
antipodes of America. Our business is to build — her 
business is to excavate. The tombs on Via Appia 
are among the interesting objects which the spade 
and mattock, during the last seventeen years, have 
brought to view. I remember well the beginning of 
this work, and the marble tombs and sarcophagi which 
it brought to light. I also remember, in those uncon- 
scientious days, a marble head, in exceedingly flat 
relief, which was desired by me, and stolen for me by 
the faithful servant of a friend. At the commencement 
of the diggings, we descended from our carriage, and 
easily walked to the end of the way then opened. Via 
Appia now affords a long drive, set with tombs on either 
side. Many of these are in brick, and of large dimen- 
6 



82 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

sions. Most of the marbles have, however, been re- 
moved to the Museum of the Vatican. 

On this road, if I mistake not, are the two columbaria 
discovered and excavated some seven years ago. They 
stand in a vineyard, which I saw in its spring bloom. The 
proprietor, a civil man, answers the little bell at the gate, 
and taking down a bunch of keys, unlocks for you the door 
of the small building erected over the vault. The original 
roof has fallen. All else looks as if it might have been 
used the day before for burial. The descent is by a 
steep, narrow stairway, of at least thirty steps, each of 
which is paved with a single lamina of coarse brick. 
The walls are honeycombed with small parallelogram- 
matic niches, in each of which was set a funeral vase or 
box. Over some of these places are such inscriptions 
as, u JVon tangite vestes mortales" " l^encrare deos 
manes." There are many names, of which I have 
preserved but one, " Castus Germanicus Ccesaris" 
This columbarium belonged to the Flavian family. It 
has about it an indescribable gloom, like that of a family 
vault in our own time, but, it must be confessed, more 
aesthetic. One felt the bitter partings that death had made 
here, the tears, the unavailing desire to heap all the remain- 
ing goods of life upon the altar of departed friendship. 
Time healed these wounds then, no doubt, as he does 
to-day. The tears were dried, the goods enjoyed again ; 
but, while Christianity has certainly lightened the dead 
weight of such sorrows, the anguish of the first blow 
remains what it was all those dim centuries ago. A 
glance into the columbarium makes you feel this. 



VIA APPIA AND THE COLUMBARIA. 83 

The second columbarium is much like the first, except- 
ing that the stair is not so well preserved. On emerging, 
the proprietor invited us to visit an upper room in his 
own house, in which were a number of objects, taken, 
he averred, from the two columbaria. These were 
mostly vases, tear-bottles, and engraved gems. But I 
doubted their genuineness too much to make any pur- 
chases from among them. The trade in antiquities is 
too cheap and easy a thing in Italy to allow faith in 
unattested relics. 

Not very far beyond the columbaria stand the cata- 
combs of the ancient Hebrews, much resembling in gen- 
eral arrangement those of the Christians. We found in 
several places the image of the seven-branched candle- 
stick impressed upon the tufa. In one of the rooms 
were some remains of fresco. At each of its corners 
was painted a date-palm with its fruit. In two other 
rooms the frescos were in good preservation. Some of 
the graves were sunk in the earth, the head and feet at 
right angles with the others. We were shown the graves 
of two masters of synagogues. The frescos are not 
unlike those in the Christian and pagan tombs, though 
as I remember them, the Christian paintings are the 
rudest of all, as respects artistic merit. 

The subjects were usually genii, peacocks, the 
cock, fruits, garlands, the latter sometimes painted 
from end to end of the wall. Some of the small 
tombs were still sealed with a marble slab. An 
entire skeleton was here shown us, and a number of 
sarcophagi. Of these, one was sunk into the ground, 



84 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

and several graves were grouped, around it, much after 
the fashion of those in the Christian catacombs, from 
which Dr. Smith inferred so largely, both concerning 
the sanctity of the saint's body and the post-mortem 
power of the saint. 

We were taken also to see some interesting tombs in 
the Via Latina. These were recently brought to light 
from their long concealment in a tract of the Campagna, 
belonging to the Barberini family. Descending a flight 
of stone steps, the custode admitted us into two fine 
vaulted chambers, decorated each after its own manner. 
The ceiling of the first was adorned with miniature bas- 
reliefs in stucco. The small figures, beautifully mod- 
elled, were enclosed in alternate squares and octagons. 
The designs were exhibitions of genii, griffins, and of 
centaurs, bearing female figures on their backs. The 
.sculptured sarcophagi found in this tomb were removed 
to the Lateran Museum. 

In the second tomb the walls and ceilings were 
adorned with miniature frescos, also enclosed in small 
compartments. Many of these represented landscapes, 
sometimes including a water view, with boats. These 
were rather faint in style, but very good. Peacocks, 
also, were frequent ; and in one compartment was paint- 
ed a glass dessert vase, with the fruit showing through 
its transparency. This design amazed us, both as to its 
subject and execution. Some panels in this tomb bore 
stucco reliefs on grounds of brilliant red and blue. In 
its centre was found hanging a fine bronze lamp, which 
is now at the Barberini Palace. A large sarcophagus 



VIA APPIA AND THE COLUMBARIA. 85 

of stone still remains here, nearly entire, with a pointed 
lid. On looking through a small break in one side of 
it, we perceived two skeletons, lying side by side, sup- 
posed, the custode told us, to have been husband and 
wife. These tombs certainly belong to a period other 
than that of the columbaria before described. The 
presence of sarcophagi, and of these skeletons, attests 
the burial of the dead in accordance with the usage of 
modern society, while the great elegance and finish of 
the ornamentation point to a time of wealth and luxury. 
I have heard no conjecture as to the original proprietor- 
ship of these tombs. They contain no military or civil 
emblems, and probably belonged to wealthy contractors 
or merchants. That day, no doubt, had its shoddy, and 
of the tricks practised upon the government one may 
read some account in Titus Livy, who, to be sure, wrote 
of an earlier time, but not a more vicious one. 

Rome now boasts an archaeological society, not indeed 
of Romans, but composed of foreign residents, mostly 
of British origin. The well-known artist Shakspear 
Wood is one of its most energetic members. At his in- 
vitation I attended a lecture given by Mr. Charles He- 
mans, on the subject of the ancient churches and mosaics 
of the city. Complementary to this lecture was an expe- 
dition of the society to several of these churches, which 
I very gladly joined. Our first and principal object of 
interest was the old Church of San Clementi, a building 
dating from the eleventh or twelfth century. Here Mr. 
Hemans first led us to observe an ancient fresco in the 
apsis, which represents the twelve apostles in the guise 



86 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

of twelve lambs, a thirteenth lamb, in the middle of the 
row, and crowned with a nimbus, representing Christ. 
Here we saw also an ancient marble chair, a marble 
altar screen, and a pavement in the ribbon mosaic, of 
which archaeologues have so much to say. This mosaic 
is so named from the strips of colored stones which form 
its various patterns on the white marble of the pave- 
ment. 

The church itself, however, occupied us but briefly. 
Beneath the church has recently been discovered and 
excavated a very extensive basilica, of a date far more 
ancient. This crypt was now lighted for us. Its origi- 
nal proportions are marred by walls of masonry built 
between its long rows of columns, and essential to the 
support of the church above. These walls are adorned 
by curious paintings of saints, popes, martyrs, and mira- 
cles. Among them is a very rude crucifixion ; also a 
picture of Christ giving benediction after the fashion 
of the Greek church, and of a pontiff in the same act. 
Upon these things Mr. Hemans made many interesting 
comments. From the crypt we descended yet farther 
into a house supposed to date back at least to the em- 
pire, if not to the republic. It is a small but heavily- 
built enclosure, of two .chambers, and contains a 
curious bas-relief in marble, representing a pagan 
sacrifice. In the narrow descent that led to it Mr. Wood 
showed me in three consecutive strata the tufa of the 
time of the kingdom, travertine of the republic, and 
brick of the empire. 

The presence of the ancient basilica below the ancient 



VIA APPIA AND THE COLUMBARIA. 87 

church was suggested to one of the priests of the latter 
by the presence of a capital, rising just above the pave- 
ment of the church, and not accounted for by any cir- 
cumstance in its architecture. This capital belonged to 
one of the columns of the basilica ; but before so much 
could be ascertained, a long and laborious series of ex- 
cavations had to be instituted. Father , the priest 

who first conjectured of the presence of this under 
building, has been indefatigable in following up the 
hint given by the capital, which he alone, in a succes- 
sion of centuries, was clever enough to interpret. Most 
of the expense of this work has been borne by him. 

From San Clementi the worshipful society went to the 
church of Santi Quattro. The object of interest here was 
a small chapel filled with curious old frescos, one series 
of which represents the conversion of Constantine. We 
see first depicted a dream, in which Sts. Peter and Paul 
appear to Constantine, warning him to desist from the 
murder of innocent children, whose blood was supposed 
to be a cure for his leprosy., Not disobedient to the 
heavenly vision, Constantine relinquishes the blood-bath, 
and releases the children. He sends for St. Sylvester, 
the happy possessor of an authentic portrait of the two 
apostles. The fresco shows us Sylvester responding to 
this summons, and bringing in his hand the portrait, 
which the emperor immediately recognizes. Farther on 
we see Sylvester riding in papal triumph, the emperor 
leading his palfrey — a haughty device for those days. 
Another fresco records the finding of the true cross by 
St. Helena. Coming at one time upon the three crosses 



88 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

she applied each of them in succession to the body of a 
dying person, who was healed at once by the contact of 
the true one. 

The archaeological society also explores the interesting 
neighborhoods of Rome, the villas of emperors, states- 
men, and poets. Thus life springs out from decay, and 
the crumbling relics of the past incite new activities in 
minds that cling, like the ivy, about relics and ruins. 
This society, ancient as are the facts about which it 
occupies itself, seemed to me one of the most modern 
features of Rome, especially as it travels by rail, and 
carries its luncheon with it. I was not fortunate enough 
to join its visits to the environs of the Eternal City, but 
I wish that on one of its excursions it would take with 
it the oldest nuisance of modern society, and forget to 
bring it back. There is room enough outside of Rome 
for that which, shut within its walls, crowds out every 
new impulse of life and progress. No harm to the old 
man ; no violence to his representative immunity ; only 
let him remember that the world has room for him, and 
that Rome has not. 

Naples — The Journey. 

From these brief, sombre notes of Rome, we slide at 
once to Naples and her brilliant surroundings. Here, 
taking the seven colors as the equivalents of the seven 
notes, w r e are at the upper end of the octave of color. 
Rome is painted in purple, gold, olive, and bistre — its 
shadows all in the latter pigment. Naples is clear red, 
white, and yellow. Orange tawny is its deepest shade. 



NAPLES THE JOURNEY. 89 

The sounds of Rome awaken memories of devotion. 
They call to prayer, although the forms now be empty, 
and the religious spirit resident elsewhere. The voice 
of Naples trills, shrieks, scolds, mingling laughter, wail, 
and entreaty, in a new and confused symphony. Lit- 
tle piano-fortes, played like a barrel organ, go about 
the streets, giving a pulse to the quick rhythm of life. 
The common people are pictures, the aristocracy carica- 
tures. When you rise above low life, Italian taste is too 
splendid for good effects in costume. The most ill-married 
colors, the most ill-assorted ornaments, deform the pale 
olive faces, and contradict the dignity of the dark eyes 
and massive hair. This is somewhat the case in Rome, 
much more in Naples. The continual crescc?zdo of 
glare, as you go southward, points to the African crisis 
of orange and crimson, after which the negro naked- 
ness presents an enforced pause, saying, " I can no 
more." 

This land is the antipodes of the Puritan country. 
There all is concentration, inward energy, interior. 
Here all is external glow and glitter. If there be any 
interior, it can only belong to one of these three — pas- 
sion, superstition, avarice. Everyone who deals with 
you speculates upon your •credulity. " Will you give 
four times the value of a thing, or five, or only twice? " 
is the question which the seller's eyes put to the buyer, 
however the tongue of the one may respond to that of 
the other. And here is a sad deforming of the Scripture 
parable ; and he who has five in value gets ten in money 
for it, he who has three gets six, while the one talent, hon- 



90 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

esty, — the fundamental gift of God to man, — is indeed 
ignominiously buried in a dirty napkin, and laid nobody 
knows where. And while New England energy is a 
hundred-armed giant that labors, Italian sloth is a hun- 
dred-handed lazzaro that begs. If this is the result of 
the loveliest climate, the most brilliant nature, give me 
our snow and ice, ay, the east wind and all. 

The journey from Rome to Naples at this season is hot, 
oppressive. Railway carriages, even as administered in 
Europe, make you acquainted with strange way-fellow T s. 
We chance upon a Neapolitan prince, with an English 
wife, returning to his own country and possessions after 
an absence of six years, the time elapsed since the inau- 
guration of the new rule. He obviously regrets the 
changes over which the rest of the civilized world re- 
joices. In person, however, he and his partner are simple 
and courteous. Our car confines also a female nonde- 
script carrying a dog, herself quite decently got up, but 
with an extraordinary smile, that is either lunatic or wick- 
ed, we cannot determine which. A certain steadiness and 
self-possession incline us to the latter theory, but we hold 
it subject to correction at a later day. She is obviously 
of Irish or low English extraction, and maybe anything, 
from a discarded lady's maid to a reigning mistress. As 
we approach Naples, our princely friend begins to take 
notice. Here is Caserta, here its battle-field, where poor 
Francesco would certainly have had the victory, had not 
the French and Piedmontese interfered. " Oh Richard, 
oh mon Roil" But we remember another saying: 
" And I tell you, if these had held their peace, the very 



NAPLES THE JOURNEY. 91 

stones would have cried out." Ay, those very stones, 
volcanic lava and tufa, worn by the chariot wheels of the 
wicked, from Tiberius to Napoleon and after, would 
have sobbed, " Let the feet of the messenger of peace, 
the beautiful feet, at last pass this way ! " Arrived at 
the station, no warning can have taught you what to ex- 
pect. It costs you forty cents to have your moderate 
effects transported from the cars to the omnibus of the 
hotel, — this not through any system, but because various 
people meddle with them, and shriek after you for rec- 
ompense. At the Hotel de Rome, you are shown up 
many stairs into a dingy little room, a sort of spider's 
web. This will not do. You try the Hotel de Russie, 
opposite. Here you are forced to take an apartment 
much too fine for your means and intentions. The 
choice being this or none, you shut your eyes upon 
consequences, and blindly issue orders for tea and 
meats. To-morrow you will surely get a cheaper apart- 
ment. But to-morrow you do not. 

The hotel book looks discouraging. Names of your 
countrymen are in it, not of your friends. Better re- 
main apart than run the risk of nngenial society, and 
enforced fellowship. But the dull waters soon break 
into the sparkle of special providences. A bright little 
Briton, with a mild husband, hospitably makes your ac- 
quaintance. She is from Ireland, and has not the " thor- 
ough-bred British stare." All the more of a lady do we 
deem and find her. To her pleasant company is soon 
added that of an American of the sincere kind. He ac- 
cepts us without fear or condition, and while we remain 



92 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

under the same roof with him, we have no cause to com- 
plain for want of sympathy or of countenance. 

The Museum. 

In the Museum we spend two laborious days. The 
first we give to the world-renowned marbles, finding 
again with delight our favorites of twenty years' stand- 
ing. Prominent among these are the Amore Delfino, 
and the Faun bearing the infant Bacchus. 

The Farnese Bull and the Farnese Hercules are ad- 
mirable for their execution, but their subject has no spe- 
cial interest for us. We observe the Atlas, the Athletes, 
and the Venuses, one of whom is w T orld-famous, but in- 
excusable. Here, too, is the quadriform relic of the 
Psyche, well known by copies, and the whole Balbo fam- 
ily on horseback. These marble knights once guarded 
the Forum of Pompeii. There is a certain melancholy 
in their present aspect, whether of fact or imagina- 
tion we will not determine. One of the most interest- 
ing objects, from the vicissitudes through w r hich it has 
passed, is the statue of Caligula, destroyed by the people 
with all other mementos of him after his death, the 
head having served, even in modern times, to steady the 
wheels of carriages in a ferry boat. The Naples Muse- 
um does not rival the Vatican in the merit of its nude 
marbles ; but in draped statues it is far richer, as well 
as in statues of personal historical interest. The belief 
of the past has the most stately illustration in Rome, its 
life the most vivid record in Naples. 

Many new treasures have been added to the collec- 



THE MUSEUM. 93 

tion during these years of our absence. Among them 
are some exquisite small bronzes, and three statuettes in 
marble, of which the eyes are colored blue, and the hair 
of a reddish tint. One of them is very pretty. It rep- 
resents the seated figure of a little boy, and almost 
reconciles us to the strictly inadmissible invasion of 
color into the abstract domain of sculpture. Each 
art has, indeed, its abstraction. Sculpture dispenses 
with color, painting with the materiality of form. 
The one is to the other as philosophy to poetry. 

From the marbles we flit to the Pompeian bronzes 
and mosaics, rich in number and in interest. Two tab- 
lets in mosaic especially detain us, from their represen- 
tation of theatrical subjects. One of these shows 
the manager surrounded by several of his actors, to 
whom he dispenses the various implements of their art. 
At his feet, in a basket, lie the comic and tragic masks. 
Of the personages around him, one is pulling on his 
garment, another is trying the double tubes of a wind 
instrument The second mosaic presents a group of 
three closely-draped figures. Actor is written on their 
faces, though we know not the scene they enact. The 
bronzes are numerous and admirable. Minature art 
seems to have been held in great esteem among the Pom- 
peians. Most of these figures are of small size, and sug- 
gest a florid and detailed style of adornment. Among 
other objects, we are shown the semicircular model of 
a Pompeian bath, on which are arranged the ornaments 
and water-fixtures just as they were found. One of 
these imitates a rampant lion standing on his hind legs, 



94 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

and delivering water from his mouth ; another a serpent 
nearly upright. In the upper story of the Museum we 
see whole rooms floored with mosaic pavements re- 
moved entire from houses in Pompeii. The patterns are 
mostly in black and white, but of an endless variety. 
The contents of these rooms match well in interest with 
their pavements. Here, in glass cases, are carefully 
ranged and presented the tools and implements of 
Pompeian life ; the loaves that never left the baker s 
shop, still fresh and puffy in outline, although calcined 
in substance ; the jewels and silver vessels of the 
wealthy, the painter's colors, the workman's needles 
and thread : baths and braziers, armor in bronze and 
in iron, scarcely more barbaric than that of the middle 
ages ; helmets, with clumsy metal network guarding the 
spaces for the eyes ; spades, cooking utensils in great 
variety, fruits and provisions as various. Among the 
bronze utensils is a pretty and economical arrangement 
which furnishes at once hot water, a fire of coals to heat 
the room, w T ith the convenience of performing at the same 
time the solemn rites of cookery. Hot water, both for 
bathing and drinking, seems to have been a great de- 
sideratum with the Pompeians. The stone cameos and 
engraved gems are shown in rows under glass cases. 
This Museum contains a well-known tazza, or flat cup, 
of onyx entire, elaborately carved in cameo on either 
side. It also possesses a vase of double glass, of which 
the outer or white layer has been cut, like a cameo, into 
the most delicate and elaborate designs. The latter is 
an object of unique interest and value, as is shown by 



THE MUSEUM. 95 

the magnificence with which it has. been mounted on a 
base of solid silver, the whole being placed under 
glass. 

The Cumaean collection is less rich in objects of 
interest than the Pompeian. Its treasures are mostly 
Etruscan. It possesses many vases, Etruscan and Greek, 
many rude Etruscan sculptures, with household articles 
of various descriptions. It occupies a separate set of 
rooms, and is the gift of the Prince of Carignano. 

Among the Pompeian remains we forgot to mention 
a mosaic tablet representing a cock-fight. One cock 
already bleeds and droops ; above him the figure of his 
genius turns desponding away. The genius of the vic- 
torious cock, on the contrary, bears a crown and palm. 
The design is worthy of the Island of Cuba at the 
present day. 

The frescos brought and transferred from Pompeii are 
beautiful and interesting. One of them shows thirteen 
dancing figures, all of which are frequently copied. 
Many inscriptions in marble are also preserved, but to 
decipher them would ask much time. We were inter- 
ested in a small painted model of a Pompeian dwelling, 
called the House of the Poet. It shows the quadriform 
arrangement of the dark chambers around the open 
courts, of which one is the atrium, one the per is ty Hum. 
The window-panes of the house of Diomed are shown, — 
not of glass, but talc, and only translucent. Windows, 
however, were rare in Pompeii. Perhaps the most 
pathetic relic that we observe is the skull of the senti- 
nel in his helmet, as it was found. 



96 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE, 

We have here given only the most hurried and im- 
perfect indication of the mines of wealth which this 
institution offers to the student of art and of history. A 
detailed account of its contents will be found in the 
valuable but prosaic Murray, and would here be super- 
fluous. Its guardians, the custodi, are civil, and are 
not allowed to ask or receive any compensation from 
visitors. Several of them, nevertheless, manage to sug- 
gest that they would be glad to wait on you at your hotel, 
with books, objects of antiquity ,*and other small merchan- 
dise, which you hurriedly decline. You will be fortu- 
nate to get out of Naples in any state short of utter 
bankruptcy. How you are ever to get home to Amer- 
ica, with temptations and expenses multiplying so 
frightfully upon you, sometimes threatens to become 
a serious question. 

Naples — Excursions. 

You have been two days in Naples, the hotel expenses 
and temptations of the street eating into your little 
capital. For value received your intellects have nothing 
to show. Your eyes and ears have been full, your brain 
passive and empty. You rouse yourself, and determine 
upon an investment. To learn something, you must 
spend something. These cherished napoleons must 
decrease, and you must, if possible, increase. 

The first attempt is scarcely a success. Having heard 
marvels of the conventual church of San Martino, 
formerly belonging to the Cistercian brotherhood, you 
consult the porter of the hotel, and engage, for seven 






NAPLES EXCURSIONS. 97 

francs, a carriage to transport you thither. The drive is 
one immense climb under the heat of the afternoon sun. 
When you have gained the difficult ascent, your driver 
coolly informs you that the church is always closed at 
four P. M., the present time being 5.30. " Why did you 
not tell me so?" is the natural but useless question. 
" Because I could not in that case have got seven francs 
from you," would be the real answer. The driver 
shrugs his shoulders, and expects a scolding, which you 
are too indignant to give. 

But you are not to be defeated in this way. A second 
expedition is planned and executed. To the gates of 
Pompeii you fly, partly by steam, and partly by horse- 
aid. You alight from your cloud of dust, demand a 
guide. "Yes; you can have the guide by paying also 
for the litter. This being Sunday, the entrance is free, 
and the government supplies no guide. You must have 
the fortantina, or blunder about alone." The litter, 
with its pink gingham frill and cushion, looks hateful 
to you. You remember it twenty-three years ago with 
dislike. The sun of noon is hot upon you. The men 
are unpersuadable. Red and fierce as lava, you storm 
through the deserted streets of the ancient capital of 
seaside luxury. Like the lava, you soon cool, as to your 
temper — the rest of you continuing at 120 Fahrenheit. 
There are two of your party : one finds the litter con- 
venient ; the other also gives way, and you ride and 
tie, as the saying is, in very amicable style, and encour- 
age the guide to tell you all he knows ; but he, alas ! 
has cropped but the very top of the clover. The frag- 

7 



98 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

ments of history which he is able to give you, measure 
only his own ignorance and yours. 

" Here is the Forum in which the Balbo statues were 
found. At the upper end were the court and seat of 
justice, — for a figure was found there bearing a bal- 
ance ; underneath were the prisons." Ah, the broken 
columns ! Stately did they stand around the mounted 
statues, that expected to ride into perpetual fame on 
their marble horses — now most famous because so long 
forgotten. " Wherever four streets met, madam, stood a 
fountain. The Exchange stood also in the Forum. Here 
is the street of abundance, in which was found a marble 
bust bearing a horn of plenty. Here is the Temple of 
Isis. By this secret staircase the priest ascended and 
stood unseen behind the goddess, making the sounds 
which she was supposed to utter. Here was the bakery ; 
behold the ovens. This was found filled with newly 
baked loaves. [Yes ; for I myself beheld them in the 
Museum at Naples.] Ah, madam ! the baths, with hot 
water and cold, and vapor. In those niches running 
around the wall were placed the vases with unguents. 
Here is the House of the Poet ; here that of the Faun. 
See the frescos. What forms ! what colors ! Here is a 
newly excavated house, large and richly appointed. 
Each of these marble columns surrounding the inner 
court contains a leaden water-pipe with a faucet, so that 
from all at once water might flow to cool the extreme heats 
of summer. Here still stand two fine dragons carved 
in white marble, which must formerly have supported 
a marble slab. See what a garden this house had ! 



NAPLES EXCURSIONS. 99 

What a fish-pond ! Climb this stair, madam, if you 
would see the theatre. This larger one was for day 
performances. Yonder was the stage. There are still 
the grooves for the scenes to slide in. There was the 
orchestra [mostly flutes and fiddles]. Here sat the 
nobles, here the citizens, here the plebeians. From this 
eminence you can look over into the smaller theatre close 
at hand, in which night performances were given." And 
the stately dames, with those jewels which you saw 
stored at the Museo, and dressed and undressed like the 
frescos we have seen to-day, sat on their cushioned 
benches, and wafted their perfumes far and wide. 

Here was the house of Diomed, rich and very exten- 
sive. The skeleton of Diomed (as is supposed) was 
found at the garden gate, with the key of the house and 
a purse of money. In one of the subterranean rooms is 
shown the impression of his wife's figure, merely a 
darker mark on a dark wall. Seventeen similar im- 
pressions were found. I think it is in this house that 
the walls of one of the rooms have an under-coating 
of lead to keep the moisture from the frescos, which 
are still brilliant. The luxe of fountains was, as is 
known, great and universal in Pompeii, and the arrange- 
ment of its leaden conduits is ample and skilful. Be- 
sides the well-known frescos, with their airy figures 
and brilliant coloring, we are shown a bath, whose 
vaulted roof is adorned with stucco reliefs, arranged in 
small medallions, octagons alternating with squares. 

Presently we come to the street of tombs. Among 
these I best remember that which bears the inscription, 



IOO FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

44 Dioinede, sibi\ suis." At the upper end of this street 
we find a semicircular seat of stone, for the accommo- 
dation of the guard. Close by this was found the skel- 
eton of the sentinel in armor which we saw in the 
Museum at Naples. In the prison were found the iron 
stocks, with at least one skeleton in them ; others 
chained in divers ways. A feature new to me is that 
of various diminutive temples, with roofs roundly or 
sharply arched, devoted to the household gods. These 
usually stand upon an elevated projection, and might 
measure three feet in height and four in depth. The 
guide pointed out to us some small, square windows, 
which are simply open squares in the masonry, defended 
by iron gratings, deeply rusted. They are not numer- 
ous. Our guide suggests that there may have been a 
tax upon windows, accounting for their rare occurrence. 
One he shows us still nearly entire, a narrow slit, meas- 
uring, perhaps, eight inches by three, with a slab of talc 
in place of glass. 

And presently we come to a small museum, whose 
contents are much the same in kind with the household 
remains seen by us in the Museum at Naples. And far- 
ther on is a room in which we are shown the quattro 
morti — the four dead bodies whose impress on the 
hardened cinders which surrounded them has been so 
ingeniously utilized. It is known that the masses of 
cinder within which these bodies had slowly mouldered 
were filled with liquid plaster, and the forms of the 
bodies themselves, writhing in their last agonies, were 
thus obtained. One of these figures — that of a young 



NAPLES EXCURSIONS. IOI 

woman — is full of pathetic expression. She lies nearly 
on her face, her hand near her eyes, as if weeping. 
Her back, entirely exposed, has the fresh and smooth 
outline of youth. The forms of two elder women and 
one man complete the sad gallery. Of these women 
one wears upon her finger a silver ring, the plaster 
having just fitted within it. This figure and that of the 
man are both swollen, probably from the decomposition 
that took place before the crust of ashes hardened around 
them into the rigid mould which to-day gives us their 
outlines. 

These four plaster ghosts were the last sights seen by 
us in Pompeii. For by this time we had walked and 
ridden three hours, and those three the most fervent of 
the day, beginning soon after noon. The heat was 
cruel and intense, but we had not given ourselves time 
to think of it. The umbrella and portantina helped us 
as they could, but the feeling that the work had to be 
done now or never helped us most of all. Our vexation 
against our guides had long ago cooled into a quiet 
good will. Relinquishing the fiery journey, which 
might have been prolonged some hours further, we paid 
the rather heavy fee. The second carrier of the litter 
demanded a few extra pence, reminding us that at our 
first arrival he had brushed the dust from our dresses 
with a zeal which then appeared mysterious, but whose 
object was now clear. Parting from these, we passed 
into the little inn, quite bare and dirty, whose coolness 
seemed delicious. We here ordered an afternoon 
dejeuner, and ate, drank, and rested. 



102 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 



The Capuchin. 

While we waited for our dinner, a Capuchin at another 
table enjoyed a moderate repast. Bologna sausage, 
cheese, fruit, and wine of two sorts contented him. His 
robust countenance beamed with health, his eyes were 
intelligent. This was one of the personalities of which 
the little shown makes one desirous to know more. 
His refreshment consumed and paid for, he began a 
rambling conversation with the gargon who attended us, 
as well as with the proprietor of the locanda in which 
we were. Capuchin and Gar^on mutually deplored the 
poverty of the poor in Naples. Capuchin showed two 
blue silk handkerchiefs which he had been forced to 
purchase, for compassion, of a poor woman. Both ob- 
viously considered the new state of things as partly 
accountable for this poverty, which is, on the contrary, 
as old as the monastic orders. The Capuchin had been 
preaching Lenten sermons in Greece, and had been 
well received. Garjon rejoined that there were good 
Catholics in Greece, agreeing harmoniously with the 
man in brown. But at this juncture another face looks 
in at the door. " That is the man who plagues me to 
give him lucky numbers for play," says the frate. 
Here I can keep out of the company no longer. " What 
does he play at — cards or dice?" I ask. " Neither, 
madam ; that man ruins himself with playing at the 
tottery." Capuchin continues : u If I had the. gift of 
fortunate numbers, I would not withhold them. I 
should wish to benefit my fellow-creatures in this way, 






THE CAPUCHIN. IO3 

if I were able to do so. But I have it not, this gift of 
prophecy." And if you had it, thought I, I am not so 
sure of the ultimate benefit of gambling to your fellow- 
creatures, even were they to win, instead of losing. 

The Capuchin and I, however, talk of other things — 
of monasteries, and rich libraries, closed to women. 
" So, father, you consider us the allies of the devil." 
u No, signora ; the inhibition is mutual : we may not 
enter any nunnery." The padrone of the inn here breaks 
in with the robust suggestion that these restrictions 
ought to be removed, and that monks and nuns should 
have liberty to visit each the establishments of the other. 
While this talk proceeds, I occasionally glance into the 
smoky depths of the kitchen opposite, where a mysteri- 
ous figure, in whose cleanliness I desire to believe, 
wafts a frying-pan across a dull fire, which he stimu- 
lates by fanning with a turkey's wing. After each 
of his gymnastics, a dish is brought out, and set upon 
our table — first fish, then omelet, then cutlet; and we 
discover that the Capuchin and ourselves have a mu- 
tual friend at Fuligno, the good, intelligent, accom- 
plished Count , in whose praises each of us is 

eloquent. We part, exchanging names and addresses. 
Our Pompeian guide urges us to return and make the 
ascent of Vesuvius under his care. But we depart 
untrammelled. Every one was satisfied with us except 
the cripple who rolled himself in the dust, and the 
weird, white-haired women with spindles, who followed 
us shrieking for a largess. We gave nothing, and they 
commented upon us with a gravity of moral reprobation 



104 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

quite fit to make one's hair stand on end, even with New 
England versus beggar behind one. But the train 
came, and mercifully took us away ; and whether in not 
giving we did well or ill, is a point upon which theorists 
will not agree ; so we may be pardoned for giving our- 
selves the benefit of a doubt. 

After Pompeii a little good fortune awaited us. As be- 
fore said, we had encountered an American of the right 
sort, — kindly, sincere, and of adequate education. Join- 
ing forces with him, we no longer shivered before the hack- 
man, nor shrank from the valet de place. We at once 
engaged the latter functionary, ordered the remise of the 
hotel to wait for us, and started upon two days of eager 
but weary sight-seeing. Our first joint act was to scale 
again the height of San Martino, this time to enter the 
church and convent, and view their boasted riches. A 
pleasant court, with a well in the centre of it ; a church 
whose chapels and altars were gorgeous with lapis 
lazuli, jasper, agate, and all precious marbles ; a row 
of seats in wooden mosaic, executed by a monk of 
the Cistercian order, vowed to silence ; cloisters as 
spacious and luxurious as can well be imagined ; a 
great array of relics in golden boxes, shielded from dust 
and common sight by rich curtains of heavy silk and 
gold — this is all of the establishment that remains in our 
recollection. The present government has dismissed 
the saintly idlers of the monasteries, saying, perhaps, in 
the style of Henry VIII., " Go plough, you drones, 
go plough." But in what field and for what wages 
they henceforth labor is not known to me. 



THE CAPUCHIN. IO5 

Hence to the Grotto of Siana, half a mile long, and 
some eight feet wide. The chill of this long, damp 
passage, in contrast with the high temperature from 
which we entered it, so alarmed us that we turned 
back at half the distance, and gave up seeing the den 
or cave that lay beyond. At Pozzuoli we view Caligu- 
la's Bridge, of which but a few large stones remain : the 
guide points out the place at which Paul and Peter land- 
ed. Here are the ruins of a fine amphitheatre. The 
underground arrangements still show us the pits in 
which the wild beasts and the gladiators were kept. 
Square openings at the top ventilated each of these, and 
a long, open space in the middle separated the cells of 
the beasts from those of the gladiators. On public oc- 
casions all of these openings were closed by heavy 
plates of metal, so as to present the solid surface desired 
for the combats. 

" Arise, ye Goths, and glut jour ire ! " 

In this neighborhood we visited what is left, of the 
temple of Jupiter Serapis. The salt water formerly 
covered its columns to such a height as to corrode them 
badly. The smell caused by the evaporation of the sea- 
w T ater in the hot sun was so offensive that the govern- 
ment found it necessary to apply a thorough drain. 
These time and tide worn marbles were of the choicest 
kinds — African marble, rosso antico, and so on. Their 
former beauty little avails them now. We drive further 
to the cavern with the stratum of carbonic acid gas, and 
see the dog victimized, which cruel folly costs us two 



106 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

francs. And then we visit the sulphur vapor baths, 
whose fiery, volcanic breath frightens us. These are 
near the Lake of Agnano, an ancient volcanic crater. 
In its neighborhood are the royal game preserves, in 
which fratricidal V. E. hunts and slays the wild boar. 
Returning, we climb to Virgil's tomb, a small, empty 
enclosure, with a stone and inscription dating from 1840. 

" Cecini pascua, rura, duces," 

says the poet, through his commemorator. Item, this 
steep journey under a scorching sun did not pay very 
well. Yet, having ascended the fiery stair, and stood in 
the small, dark enclosure, and read the tolerable inscrip- 
tion, I felt that I had done what I could to honor the 
great Mantuan : so, with a good conscience, I returned 
through cool, ill-smelling Posilippo, to the hotel, dinner, 
and the afternoon meditation. 

Baja. 

The excursion to Baja called us up early in the morn- 
ing. With a tender .hush, a mysterious remembrance 
of our weaker and still sleeping brethren, we stole 
through the hotel, swallowed coffee, and issued forth 
with carriage and valet de -place for a day's campaign- 
ing. As the functionary just mentioned had invented a 
hitherto unpatented language, supposed by him to pre- 
sent some points of advantage over the Queen's English, 
I will here, en passant, serve up a brief sample, for the 
study of those inclined to the practical pursuit of lin- 
guistics. 



BAJA. 107 

" Zat is ze leg Agnano [lake of.] In vinter he is full 
of vile dog [wild duck]." Of Lake Avernus : " Zis was 
de helty [hell]." Of the ruins of the amphitheatre at 
Pozzuoli : " Ruin by de barbions [barbarians]. Zey 
brok him in piece and pushed him down. Zar is Cali- 
gole's [Caligula's] Bridge. Tis de Sibyl's Cave, where 
she gib de ragle [oracle]. Temple Diana, temple Nep- 
tune, ze god of ze sea and ze god of ze land." Here 
was a mythological aflergu thrown in. This individual 
rarely condescended to speak his native language — Ital- 
ian. In ours, it required no little adjustment of the per- 
ceptive faculties to meet his views. 

Passing through Posilippo, we come first to a piece 
of ground which bears the form of an amphitheatre, al- 
though the whole structure, if it exist at all, is thickly 
overgrown with trees and shrubs. A rustic proprietor 
cultivates the vine here, but cannot pass the nights 
during July, August, and September, on account of the 
bad air. The wines, white and red, are nevertheless 
excellent. The right of excavation here vests in a 
Frenchman, who has purchased the same. 

Our next point of exploration is the Temple of Mer- 
cury, at Baja — a circular building, with fine columns 
partly overthrown. Here exists a perfect whispering 
gallery, for at a certain spot in the wall the slightest 
utterance is instantly heard at the point directly oppo- 
site. Here two forlorn women, with a tambourine and 
without costume, dance a joyless tarantella, which 
costs us a franc. They urge us, also, to buy sea-shells, 
and small fragments of mosaic, together with skeletons 



IOS FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

of the sea-horse, a queer little fish, some two inches 
long. After this, we are shown some columbaria, and 
a bath with stucco reliefs. Adjacent is the well pre- 
served ruin of a large bathing establishment. Besides 
the baths, we here find places for reclining, where vapor 
baths were probably enjoyed. 

Now come Nero's prisons, gloomy, under-ground gal- 
leries, in which he kept his slaves. Torches here became 
necessary. These galleries, destitute of daylight, were 
quite extensive, frequently crossing each other at right 
angles. And then we visited the Piscina Mirabilis, an 
immense reservoir which formerly supplied the Roman 
fleet at Marina with fresh water. Its tall columns, still 
entire, are deeply corroded by water. This was a 
work of surprising extent and finish. Thereafter, 
mindful of Murder considered as a Fine Art, we gave 
some heed to the whereabouts of Agrippina's villa, 
and inquired concerning those matricidal attempts of 
her son, which were finally crowned with so entire 
a success. The villa of Hortensius, in this neighbor- 
hood, lies chiefly under water, the level of the ground 
having changed. Perhaps this villa was anciently built 
on ground reclaimed from the sea, as Horace says, — 

" Marisque Baiis obstrepentis urges 
Summovere litora. Parum locuples continente ripa." 

We next visited the Lake of Avernus, and Lake Fusa- 
no, the River Styx of Virgil and the Romans. Bordering 
upon this we found a whole hill-side honeycombed with 



BAJA. IO9 

columbaria. Then came the long sulphurous gallery 
leading to the hot spring in which eggs are boiled for 
your instruction. Each of these visitations has its fee, 
so that the pilgrimage, even if made on foot, would 
be a costly one. Cuma next claimed us. A.long, dark 
gallery leads to the cave of the Cumaean Sibyl, de- 
scribed by Virgil. But the presence of water here 
makes it necessary for visitors to sit upon the shoulders 
of two or three shaggy and uncleanly-looking sprites. 
We stoutly decline this adventure, and are afterwards 
sorry. From this neighborhood w T as taken the Cumaean 
collection, which figures at the Museo Nazionale, pre- 
sented by the Prince of Carignano. Somewhere in the 
course of this crowded and heated day, a dinner was 
slidden in, which gave our labor a brief interval of rest 
and refreshment. It consisted mostly of dirt, in various 
forms, flavored with cheese, garlic, and a variety of 
savors equally choice. To facilitate its consumption, 
we drank a sour-sweet fluid, called white Capri. I 
found none of the Italian wines joyous. Despite their 
want of body, they give one's nerves a decided shake. 
Well, I have narrated all that took place on the day 
set apart for Baja. Its results may be prosaically 
summed up as heat, haste, and headache, with a con- 
fused vision of the past and a most fragmentary sense 
of the present. 



iio from the oak to the olive. 

Capri. 

I have a fresh chapter of torment for a new Dante, 
if such an one could be induced to apply to me. I will 
not expatiate, nor exhale any Francesca episodes, any 
" Lasciate ogni spiranza ! " I will be succinct and 
business-like, furnishing the outlines from which some 
more leisurely artist, better paid and employed, shall do 
his hell-painting. 

We leave enchanting Naples, — tear ourselves from 
our hotel, whose very impositions grow dear to us ; 
the precious window, too, which shows the bay and 
Capri, and close at hand the boats, the fish-market, 
and the chairs on which the populace sit at eventide 
to eat oysters and drink mineral water. A small boat 
takes us to a very small steamer, on whose deck we 
pay ten francs each to a stout young man, in appear- 
ance much like a southern poor Buckra, who departs 
in another small boat as soon as he has plundered us. 
The voyage to Capri is cool and reasonably smooth. A 
pleasant chance companion, bound to the same port, 
beguiles the time for us. We exchange our intellectual 
small wares with a certain good will, which remains the 
best part of the bargain. When quite near the island, 
the small steamer pauses, and lowers a boat in which 
we descend to view the famous Blue Grotto. At the 
entrance, we are warned to stoop as low as possible. 
We do so, and still the entrance seems dangerous. 
With some scratching and pushing, however, the boat 
goes through, and the lovers of blue feast their eyes 



CAPRI. Ill 

with the tender color. The water is ultramarine, and 
the roof sapphire. The place seems a toy of nature — a 
forced detention of a single ray of the spectrum. Dyes 
change with the fashion ; the blue of our youth does not 
color our daughter's silks and ribbons. The purples of 
ten years ago cannot be met with to-day. But this blue 
is constant, and therefore perfect. 

Our enjoyment of it, however, is marred by an old 
beast in human form who rushes at us, and insists upon 
being paid two francs for diving. He promises us that 
he will show us wondrous things — that he will fill the 
azure cave with silver sparkles. Wearied with his 
screeching, and a little deluded by his promises, we 
weakly offer him a franc and a half; whereupon he 
throws off some superfluous clothing, and softly glides 
into the deep, without so much as a single sparkle. 
He certainly presents an odd appearance ; his weird 
legs look as if twisted out of silver ; his back is dark 
upon the water. But the refreshing bath he takes is so 
little worth thirty sous to us that we feel tempted to 
harpoon him as he dodges about, sure that, if pierced, 
he can shed nothing more solid than humbug. On 
our return to the steamer we pay two francs each for 
this melancholy expedition, and presently make the 
little harbor of Capri. 

And here the promised Hell begins. The way to it, 
remember, is always pleasant. No sooner does our 
boat touch the land than a nest of human rattlesnakes 
begins to coil and hiss about us, each trying to carry us 
off, each pouring into our ears discordant, rapid jargon. 



112 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

" My donkey, siora." " And mine." " And mine." 
" How much will you give? " " Will you go up to Ti- 
berio?" But all this with more repetition and less 
music than a chorus of Handel's or an aria of Sebastian 
Bach. " My donkey," flourish ; " My do-n-onkey," high 
soprano variation ; " My donkey," good grumbling con- 
tralto. " How much ? " " How much ? " " How much ? " 
u How much?" shriek all in chorus. And you, the 
unhappy star in this hell opera, begin with uncertain 
utterance — " Let me see, good people. One at a time. 
What is just I will pay" — the motivo also repeated ; 
chorus renewed — " Money ; " " Three francs ; " " Four 
francs ; " " Five francs ; " " A bottiglia ;" " A buona ma- 
no" A buona mano? Good hand — would one could 
administer it in the right way, in the right place ! By 
this time each of you occupies the warm saddle of a don- 
key, and at one P. M., less tw T enty, the thermometer at 
90 Fahrenheit or more, and being warned to reach the 
steamer by three P. M., at latest, the punishment of all 
your past, and most of your future sins begins. 

Facile descensus Averni. Yes ; but the ascensus? 
To climb so high after Tiberio, who went so low ! 
For this is the ruined palace of Tiberius Cassar himself, 
which you go to. seek and see, if possible. He still 
plagues the world, as he would have wished to do. 
Your expedition in search of his stony vestiges is a 
long network of torment, spun by you, the donkey, 
and the donkey-driver, undisguised Apollo standing 
by to weld the golden chains by which you suffer. 
As often as you seem to approach the object, a new 



CAPRI. 113 

detour leads you at a zigzag from the straight direc- 
tion. But this is little. At every turn in the road a 
beggar, in some variety, addresses you. Now a de- 
formed wretch shows you his twisted limbs, and 
shrieks, " co cosa, siora" Now, a wholesome-looking 
mother, with a small child, asks a contribution to the 
wants of " questa creatura" Now, a grandam, with 
blackened face and bleached hair, hobbles after you. 
Children oppress you with flowers, women with or- 
anges, — all in view of the largest quid for the small- 
est quo. You grow afraid to look in a pretty face 
or return a civil nod, lest the eternal signal of beggary 
should make itself manifest. And such women and 
children ! — every one a picture. Such intense eyes, 
such sun-ripened complexions! I take note of them, 
handsome devils that they are, all foreordained as a 
part of my fiery probation. For all this time I am 
making a steep ascent. Sometimes the donkey takes 
me up a flight- of stone steps, clutching at each 
with an uncertain quiver, but stimulated by the nasal 
" n — a — a — a," which follows him from the woman 
who by turns coaxes and threatens him. Now we 
clamber along a narrow ledge, whose height causes 
my dizzy head to swim ; there is nothing but special 
providence between me and perdition. A little girl, 
six years of age, pulls my donkey by the head ; a digni- 
fied matron behind me holds the whip. The little girl 
leads carelessly, and I quake and grow hot and cold 
with terror ; but it is of no use. The matron will not 
take the rein ; her office is to flog, and she will do 
8 



114 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

nought else. And the sun? — the sun works his mira- 
cles upon us until we wish ourselves as well off as the 
Niobides, who, at least, look cool. Finally, after an 
hour of jolting, roasting, quivering, and general exasper- 
ation, we reach the top. Here we are passively lifted 
from our donkeys; we mechanically follow our guide 
through a white-washed wine-shop into a small outer 
space, with a low wall around it, over which we are 
invited to look down some hundreds of feet into the sea. 
This is called the Leap of Tiberio : from this height, 
says the barefooted old vagabond who guides us, he 
pitched his victims into the deep. The descent here is 
as straight as the wall of a house. Farther on, we find 
some very fragmentary ruins, in the usual Roman style. 
Among them is a good mosaic pavement, with some 
vaults and broken columns. A sloping way is shown 
us, carefully paved, and with a groove on either side. 
Into this, say they, fitted the wheels of a certain chariot, 
in which guests were invited to seat themselves. The 
chariot, guided by two cords, then started to go down 
to the sea. But at a certain moment the vehicle was 
arrested by a sudden shock. Those within it were pre- 
cipitated into the water, after which the cords comfort- 
ably drew the chariot back. 

I have never heard any of the evidence upon which 
is based the modern rehabilitation of Tiberius and Nero. 
I have, however, found in the stately Tacitus, and even 
in gossipy Suetonius, a shudder of horror accompany- 
ing the narration of their deeds. The world has seen 
cruelty in all ages, and sees it still ; but I cannot be- 



CAPRI. 115 

lieve that the average standard of humanity can justly 
be lowered so far as to make the acts of Tiberius sim- 
ply rigorous, those of Nero a little arbitrary. Mr. Car- 
lyle, in dealing with the French revolution, reprobates 
the hysterical style of reviewing painful events ; but in 
the history of Rome under the Caesars we hear too 
plainly the sobs and shrieks of the victims to be satis- 
fied with the modern philosophizing which would de- 
prive them of our compassion. Man is naturally cruel ; 
superstition makes him more so. A genuine religion 
alone softens his ferocious instincts, and places the cen- 
tre of action and obligation elsewhere than in his own 
pleasure or personal advantage. Man is also compas- 
sionate ; but without the systematic formation of morals, 
his weak compassion will not compensate the ardor of 
his self-assertion, which may involve all crimes. Lux- 
ury exaggerates cruelty, because it intensifies the action 
of the selfish interests, and loosens the rein of restraint 
— its objects and the objects of morals being incompati- 
ble. The most cruel characters have been those pre- 
senting this admixture of luxury and ferocity. The 
silken noose gives finer and more atrocious death than 
the iron sword. 

I think that the (unless vilified) wretch Tiberius built 
this palace in fear, and dwelt in it in torment. In its 
fastnesses he felt himself safe from the knife of the 
assassin. In the leisure of its isolation he could medi- 
tate murders with aesthetic deliberation, and hurl his 
bolts of death upon the world below, remorseless and 
unattainable as Jove himself. 



Il6 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

Here is an episode of philosophizing in the hell I 
promised you. But hell itself would not be complete 
without the button-bore — the man or woman who holds 
you by a theory, and detains you amid life's intensity to 
attend the slow circlings of an elaborative brain. 

I have now finished Tiberio. The donkeys brought 
us down with more danger, more heat, more fear and 
clatter. Only beggary diminishes, a little discouraged, 
in our rear. It seems to have been given out that we 
have no small change, as is indeed the fact ; so the 
young and old only grumble after us enough to keep 
their hand in. In compensation for this, however, a 
new trouble is added, viz., the danger of losing the 
small steamboat, which threatens to leave at three 
P. M., a period by this time scarce half an hour distant. 
Yet a bit of bread we must have at the hotel. It is 
the former palace of Queen Joanna ; but we do not 
know it at the moment, and nothing leads us to suspect 
it. Here two good-natured English faces make us for 
the moment at home. A cup of tea, — the English and 
American restorative for all fatigues, — a wholesome 
slice of bread and butter, a moderate charge, and ten 
minutes of cool seclusion, make the Hotel di Tiberio 
pleasant in our recollection. And then we remount, 
and, the little steamer beginning to manoeuvre, our 
haste and anxiety become extreme ; so we take no 
more heed of steep or narrow, but the donkeys and we 
make one headlong business of it down to the beach, 
where we have still to make a secondary embarkation 
before reaching the steamer. Here, as we had foreseen, 



CAPRI. Il7 

the final crush attends us. The guide and each of the 
donkey girls and women insist upon separate payment. 
With grim satisfaction I fling a five-franc note for the 
whole. It is too much, but the whole island cannot or 
will not give change for it. And then ensues much 
shrieking, expostulation, and gesticulation, in the midst 
of which I plunge into the boat, make my bargain with 
Charon, and am for the time out of hell. As I looked 
back, methought I saw Stefano the guide and the women 
having it out pretty well with reference to the undivided 
fee. Stefano leaped wildly into the sea after me, and 
extorted five more soldi from my confusion. Finally, I 
exhort all good Christians to beware of Capri, and on 
no account to throw away a trip thither, but to un- 
dertake ' the same as a penance, for the mortification 
of the flesh and the good of the immortal soul. The 
island is to-day in as heathen a condition as Tiberius 
himself could wish ; only from a golden, it has de- 
scended to the perpetual invoking of a copper rain. 
That the Beggar's Opera should have been written out 
of the kingdom of Naples is a matter of reasonable 
astonishment to the logically inferring mind. I could 
improvise it myself on the spur of the moment, making 
a heroine out of the black-eyed woman who drove my 
animal — black-haired also, and with a scarlet cotton 
handkerchief bound around her head in careless pictu- 
resqueness. Gold ear-rings and necklace had she who 
screamed and begged so for a penny more than her due. 
And when I cried aloud in fear, she replied, " Non ahbia 
timor — donkey 'molt avezzo ;" which diverted my mind, 



Il8 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

and caused me to laugh. As we went up and as we 
went down, she encountered all her friends and gossips 
in holiday attire ; for yesterday was Festa, and to-day, 
consequently, is festa also — a saint's day leaving many 
small arrearages to settle, in the shape of headache, 
fight, and so on, so that one does not comfortably get 
to work again until the third day. This fact of the 
antecedent festa accounted for the unusual amount of 
good clothes displayed throughout the island. Our 
eyes certainly profited by it, and possibly our purses ; 
for we just remember that one or two groups in velvet 
jackets and gold necklaces did not beg. 

But all of this is a superfluous after-digression, as I 
am really, in my narrative, already on board of the little 
steamer, with the charitable waves between me and the 
brigand Caprians. A pleasant sail — not so smooth but 
that it made the Italian passengers ill — brought us to 
Sorrento. Here our trunk was hoisted on the head of a 
stout fellow, all the small fry of the harbor squabbling 
for our minor luggage. We climbed a long, steep flight 
of stone steps, walked through a shady orange garden, 
and came out upon a cool terrace fronting the sea, with 
the Rispoli Hotel behind it. Here we were to stay ; 
our bargain was soon made, with the divine prospect 
thrown in. Our room was on the ground floor, behind 
a shallow arcade paved with majolica. Shaking off the 
dust of travel, and ranging our few effects in the rather 
narrow quarters, we at once took possession of the 
prospect, and regulated ourselves accordingly. 



SORRENTO. 



Sorrento. 



119 



Ugh ! after the roasting, hurried day at Capri, how 
delicious was the first morning's rest at Sorrento ! The 
coral merchant came and went. We did not allow him 
to trouble us. They offered us the hotel asses ; we did 
not engage them. The blue sea, the purple mountains, 
the green, rustling orange groves, — these were enough 
for us, pieced with the writing of these ragged notes, 
and a little dipping into our Horace, who, it must be 
confessed, goes lamely without a dictionary. A day of 
lights and shadows, of sunshine and silence, of pains 
caressed, and fatigues whose healing was sweeter than 
fresh repose. And we dreamed of novels that we could 
write beneath this romance-forging sun, and how the 
commonplace men and women about us should take 
grandiose shapes of good and ill, and figure as ideals, 
no longer as atoms. We would forsake our scholastic 
anatomy, and make studies of real life, with color and 
action. For this, as we know, we should need at least 
six months of freedom, which perhaps the remnant of 
our mortal lives does not offer. Meantime we sit and 
dream. Each sees the content of the landscape reflect- 
ed in the other's eyes. We sit just within our room, the 
little writing-table half within, half without the win- 
dow, that reaches to the ground. The soft breeze flut- 
ters our pages to and fro. We scold it caressingly, as 
one reproves the overplay of a gracious child. With 
the exception of an occasional straggling visitor, the 
whole terrace is ours. Now and then we forsake the 



120 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

writing-table, rush to the railing that borders the ter- 
race, and take a good look up and down, to assure our- 
selves that what we see is real, and founded on terra 
firma. Here our wearied nerves shall bathe in seas of 
heavenly rest. As to our suffering finances, too, — if 
one word is not too often profaned for us to profane it, 
we will quote Horace's 

"mox reficit rates quassas," 

not 

„ " indociles pauperiem pati ' 

Here our rapture will cost nothing. We will feed 
our eyes. The sea and sky shall wear sapphires and 
diamonds for us. Our shabbiness will be the aesthetic 
complement to their splendors. Do you not remember 
the figures in brown or olive green that always lurk in 
the corners of pictures in whose centre the Madonna, or 
some saint, is glorified? They also serve, who only 
stand and wait in the shadow. So will we do now. 
We will lie forgotten in the corner of this splendid pic- 
ture, while our time and our remaining credit equalize 
themselves a little. The days in Naples considerably 
outran our estimate ; the days here must make up for it. 
And we want nothing ; and all is delightful. 

It is true, we do not carry out those good intentions 
quite literally. Who ever does? But we adhere to our 
proposed outline of rigid economy with only an occa- 
sional break. We soon begin to take note of small 
temptations that lie about the streets. Here we see the 
little neck-ribbons that are so cheap and pretty. A 



SORRENTO. 121 

handful of them twisted around the neck of Economy 
give her something of a choke. Further on in our days 
and walks, a sound of saws in motion arrests our atten- 
tion ; while a sign and tempting show-case urge us at 
least to look at the far-famed Sorrento woodwork. We 
enter ; we set the tenth clause of the Decalogue at 
nought, coveting wildly. Brackets, tea, glove, and cash 
boxes are displayed there for our overthrow ; w T atch- 
cases, on a new principle, all either brave with mosaic, 
or smooth and shining in the simple beauty of the olive 
wood. Something of all this we snatched and fled. 
We took far too little for our wishes, rather too much 
for our means. Silk stockings we did resist by that 
simplest and best of measures — not entering the shops 
in which they were pressingly advertised. The very 
passing of those shops gave us, however, vague dreams 
of swimming about in silken movements ; how grateful 
in a world of heat ! But the line has to be drawn some- 
where, and we draw it here. 

A donkey excursion pleasantly varies our experience in 
Sorrento. Do you know how much a donkey ride means 
in Sorrento? It does not mean a perpetual jolt, and hor- 
rible inter-asinicidal contest between the ass who carries 
the stick and the ass who carries you. The donkeys of 
Sorrento are fat and well-liking : smooth and gray are 
the pair that come for us, comfortable as to the saddle 
and the bridle. And our donkey-driver is a handsome 
youth, with a bold, frank countenance, and the ripest 
olive and vermilion complexion. His walk is graceful 
and robust ; he knows every one he meets, and has his 



122 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

bit of fun with sundry of the groups who pass us. 
These consist of men and women bearing on their heads 
large flat baskets filled with cocoons, or in their hands 
bundles of the same ; girls leading mules, or carry- 
ing household burdens ; soldiers, beggars, Neapolitan 
princes, the syndic of Sorrento, and other varieties of the 
species vaguely called human. He takes us up a steep 
and rough ascent to the telegraph station. There are 
many bad bits in the road ; he is but one, and the don- 
keys are two ; but he has such a .clever way, at critical 
moments, of holding on to the head of the second donkey 
in conjunction with the tail of the first, that he gets the 
two cowardly riders through many difficulties and more 
fears. Once on level ground, the donkeys amble along 
delightfully. So pleasant is the whole in remembrance, 
that, sitting here, at an interval of many miles in dis- 
tance, and ten days in time, we feel a sincere twinge in 
remembering that we gave him only a franc for himself, 
paying by agreement two francs for either donkey. For- 
give us, beauteous and generous Gaetano, and do not 
curse us in aggio and saggio, the open-mouthed patois 
of your country. 

Florence. 

A week is little for the grandeurs of Florence, much 
for the discomforts of its summer weather. The last 
week of May, which we passed there, mistook itself for 
June, and governed itself accordingly. We went out as 
early as human weakness, unsubdued by special disci- 
pline, permitted. We struggled with church, gallery, 



FLORENCE. 1 23 

painting, sculpture, and antiquities. We breathlessly 
read sensible books, guides, and catalogues, in the little 
intervals of our sight-seeing. We dropped at night, 
worn and greedy for slumber; and the day died, and 
made no sign. 

A hot week, but a happy one. To be overcome in 
a good cause is glorious, and our failure, we trust, was 
quantitative, not qualitative. Good friends helped us, 
took away all little troubles and responsibilities ; took 
us about in carriages of dignity and ease, and landed us 
before royal, imperial works of art. With all their aid 
and cherishing, Florence was too many for us. So, of 
her garment of splendors, we were able only to catch 
at and hold fast a shred here and there, and whether 
these fragments are worth weaving into a chapter at all, 
will better appear when we shall have made the experi- 
ment of so combining them. 

Our first view of her was by night ; when, wearied with 
a day's shaking, a hot and a long one, we tumbled out 
of railroad car into arms of philanthropic friend, who 
received us and our bundles, selected our luggage, con- 
quered our porter and hackman, pointed to various inter- 
esting quadrangles of lamps, and said, "This is Florence." 
But we had seen such things before, and gave little heed 
— our thought machinery being quite run down for lack 
of fuel. The aspect which we first truly perceived, and 
still remember, was that of a clean and friendly interior, 
a tea-table set, a good lamp bright with American pe- 
trolic) (O shade of Downer!), and, behind an alcove, 
the dim, inviting perspective of a comfortable bed, 



124 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

which seemed to say, " Come hither, weary ones. I have 
waited long enough, and so have you." 

Palazzo Pitti. 

The second aspect of Florence was the Pitti Palace, 
brown and massive ; and the bridges numerously span- 
ning the bright river ; and the gay, busy streets, shady in 
lengths and sunny only in patches ; the picturesque me- 
lange of business and of leisure, artisans, country people, 
English travellers and dressed-up Americans ; the jew- 
eller's bridge, displaying ropes of pearls and flashes of 
diamonds, with endless knottings and perplexities of 
gold and mosaic ; alabaster shops, reading-rooms, book- 
stores, fashions, cabinets of antiquities — all leading to a 
welcome retirement within the walls of the Palazzo Pitti. 

Well content was the Medici to live in it, ill content 
to exchange it, even for the promised threshold of Para- 
dise. A good little sermon here suggests itself, of 
which the text was preached long ago, " For where 
your treasure is, there will your heart be also." And 
Medici's investments had been large in Pitti, and trifling 
in Paradise ; hence the difficulty of realizing in the 
latter. Within the Pitti Palace are things that astonish 
the world, and have a right to do so, as have all the 
original results of art. The paintings are all — so to 
speak — set on doors that open into new avenues of 
thought and speculation for mankind. The ideal world, 
of which the real is but a poor assertion, has, in these 
glimpses, its truest portraiture. Their use and dignity 
have also limits which the luxury and enthusiasm of 



PALAZZO PITTI. 125 

mankind transgress. But indispensable were they in 
the world's humanization and civilization : that is 
enough to say of them. 

O, unseen in twenty-three years, and never to be 
seen again with the keen relish of youth. What have I 
kept of you? What good seed from your abundant 
harvest has ripened in my stony corner of New Eng- 
land ? Your forms have filled and beautified the blank 
pages of life, for every life has its actual blanks, which 
the ideal must fill up, or which else remain bare and 
profitless forever. And you are here, my Seggiola, and 
you, my Andreas and Peruginos and Raphael ; and Guer- 
cino's woman in red still tenderly clasps the knees of 
the dead Savior. But O ! they have restored this pic- 
ture, and daubed the faded red with savage vermilion. 

Scarcely less ungrateful than the restoration of a 
beautiful picture is the attempt to restore, after the busy 
intervals of travelling, the precious impressions made 
by w T orks and wonders of art. The incessant labor of 
sight-seeing in Florence left little time for writing up on 
the spot, and that little was necessarily given to record- 
ing the then recent recollections of Naples and Rome. 
It was in Venice that I first tried to overtake the subject 
of Florence. It is in Trieste that I sit down and despair 
of. doing the poorest justice to either. My meagre notes 
must help me out ; but, in setting them down, I forgot 
how rapidly and entirely the material, of which they 
gave the outline, would disappear, I thought that I 
held it, so far as mind possession goes, forever. At the 
feast of the gods we think our joys eternal. 



126 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

On reference to the notes, then, I find that the best 
Andreas and Fra Bartolomeos are to be found here, and 
quite a number of them in the Pitti. Some of the 
first Raphaels also are here, and some Titians. The 
Seggiola looked to me a little dim under her glass. The 
Fates of Michael Angelo were strong and sincere. 
Two of the Andreas are the largest I remember, and 
very finely composed. Each represents some modifica- 
tion of the Madonna and Saints, subjects of which we 
grow very weary. Yet one perceives the necessity of 
these pictures at the time in which they were painted. 
The aesthetic platform of the time would have them, 
and accepted little else. A much smaller picture shows 
us the heads of Andrea and his beautiful wife, the Lucia, 
made famous by Browning. The two heads look a little 
dim now, both with age, and one with sorrow. Raphael's 
pictures, seen here in copious connection with those of 
his predecessors, appear as the undoubted culmination 
of the Florentine school, grandly, drawn, and conceived 
with the subtlest grace and spirit. The Florentine 
school, as compared with others, has a great weight of 
aesthetic reason behind it. It reminds me of some 
rare writing in which what is given you represents much 
besides itself. The best Peruginos share this merit, so 
do, in a different manner, the works of Beato Angelico, 
whose wonderful faces deserve their gold background. 
How to overtake these supreme merits in the regions of 
prose and of verse, one scarcely knows, By combining 
bold and" immediate conception with untiring energy, 
unflinching criticism, and a nicety that stops before no 



PALAZZO PITTI. 127 

painfulness, one might do it. Life runs like a centi- 
ped ; one dreams of being an artist, and dies. 

Here it may not be amiss for me to recur to the form 
of my diary, whose inartistic jottings will best give the 
order of my days and movements. 

Wednesday, May 29. — Walked to Santa Croce, hear- 
ing that a mass was to be celebrated there for the Flor- 
entine victims of '48. When I arrived, the mass was 
nearly over ; the attendance had been very numerous, 
and we found many people still there. Near the high 
altar were wreaths and floral trophies. I should be glad 
to know whether the priests who celebrated this mass 
did so with a good will. The ideas of '48 are the dead- 
ly enemies of the absolute and unbounded assumptions 
of the Roman papacy and priesthood. I hear that many 
of the priests desire a more liberal construction of their 
office. Would to God it might be so. It is most mourn- 
ful that those who stand, in the public eye, for the 
religion of the country, should be pledged to a course 
utterly out of equilibrium with the religious ideas of the 
age. Thus religious forms contradict the spirit and es- 
sence of religion, and the established fountain-heads of 
improvement shut the door against social and moral 
amelioration. 

In Santa Croce we hastily visited the monument erect- 
ed to Alfieri by the Countess of Albany, and the tombs 
of Machiavelli, Galileo, and Raphael Morghen. The 
last has a mural background of florid marble, of a light 
red color, with a recumbent figure in white marble, and 
an elaborate medallion of the same material, represent- 



128 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 






ing the Madonna, infant and saints. I fully hoped and 
intended to revisit this venerable and interesting church, 
but was never able to do so. It has lately received, as 
all the world knows, a fine front in pure white marble, 
adorned by bas-reliefs executed by the popular sculp- 
tor Fedi. In the square before the church stands the 
new statue of Dante, which I found graceful, but not 
grandiose, nor indeed characteristic. The face bears no 
trace of the great poem ; the awe and dignity of super- 
human visions do not appear in its lines. He, making 
hell and heaven present to our thoughts, did a far deep- 
er and more difficult work than those accomplished who 
made their material semblance present to our eyes. 

The remainder of this morning we devoted to the 
gallery of the Uffizi, the artistic fendant of the Pitti. 
We hastily make its circuit with a friend who points out 
to us the portraits of Alfieri and the Countess of Albany, 
his lady and companion. The head of Alfieri is bold 
and striking, the hair red, the temperament showing 
more of the northern energy than of the southern pas- 
sion. The sobriety of his works and laborious charac- 
ter of his composition also evince this. The countess, 
painted from mature life, shows no very marked charac- 
teristic. Hers is the face of an intelligent woman, but 
her especial charm does not appear in this portrait. 

The Uffizi collection appears to have been at once 
increased and rearranged during the three and twenty 
years of our absence. We find the Niobides grouped in 
an order different from that in which we remember them. 
The portrait gallery of modern artists is for us a new 



PALAZZO PITTI. I29 

feature, and one which, alas ! we have not time to study, 
seeing that the great chefs-d'ceuvres imperiously challenge 
our attention, and that our time is very short for them. 
We spend a dreamy hour in the Tribune, whose very 
circumscription is a relief. Here we are not afraid of 
missing anything. This etui of gems is so perfectly 
arranged and inventoried that the absence of any one of 
them would at once be perceived. Here stands the 
Venus, in incomparable nudity. Here the Slave still 
sharpens his instrument — the classic Boxers hold each 
other in close struggle. Raphael, Correggio, Michael 
Angelo, Carlo Dolce, are all here in concentration. You 
can look from one to the other, and read the pictorial 
language of their dissents and arguments. A splendid 
Paul Veronese, in half figures, merits well its place 
here. It represents a Madonna and attendant female 
saint: the hair and costumes are of the richest Venetian 
type ; and though the crinkles of the one and the stripes 
of the other scarcely suggest the fashions of Palestine, 
they make in themselves a very gorgeous presentment. 
In the other rooms we remember some of the finest 
Raphaels, a magnificent Perugino, Sodoma's beautiful 
St. Sebastian, a famous Salutation of Mary and Elizabeth, 
by Albertinelli, a very tipsy and impudent Silenus by 
Rubens, with other pictures of his which I cannot char- 
acterize. The Vandykes were all hung too high to be 
w r ell seen. They did not seem nearly so fine as the 
Vandykes in the Brignoli Palace in Genoa. Here are 
some of Beato Angelico's finest works, among others 
his famous triptych, from whose bordering of miniature 

9 



130 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

angels so many copies are constantly made. Here is also 
a well-known Leonardo da Vinci, as well as Raphael's 
portraits of Leo Tenth, attended by a cardinal and an- 
other dignitary. A narrow gallery is occupied by nu- 
merous marble alto relievos by Luca della Robbia and 
Donatello ; here is also a marble bas-relief of the 
Madonna and Child, the work of the great Michael. 

By knocking at a side door you gain admittance into 
a small chamber, whose glass cases contain works of 
art in gold, crystal, and precious stones. Here is a 
famous cup, upon whose cover a golden Hercules en- 
counters the many heads of the Hydra, brilliant with 
varied enamels, the work of Benvenuto Cellini. Minia- 
ture busts in agate and jasper, small columns of the 
same materials, — these are some of the features which 
my treacherous memory records. It has, however, let 
slip most of what is precious and characteristic in this 
collection. The Uffizi demands at least a week's study 
for even the slightest sketch of its contents. We had 
but a week for all Florence, and tasted of the great 
treasure only on this day, and a subsequent one still 
more hurried. In remembrance, therefore, we can only 
salute it with a free confession of our insufficiency. 

Thursday. — A dies non for the galleries. It was 
a Festa, and they were all closed. So was the Bar- 
gello. The Boboli gardens were not open till noon, 
at which time the heat made them scarcely occupable. 
We visited the Church of San Michele, which was 
formerly a Loggia, or building with open sides and 
arches, like others still existing in various parts of the 



PALAZZO PITTI. 131 

city. The filling up of these open arches changed it 
into a church. They tell us that it is to be reconverted 
into a Loggia, to answer the present necessities of the 
over-crowded city. Here we found a curious taberna- 
cle, carved in marble — a square enclosure, with much 
detail of execution, and, on the whole, a Gothic effect. 
Tombs, monuments, and old mosaic pavement this tem- 
ple also contains ; but I cannot recall its details. 

The afternoon of this day we employed partly in a visit 
to the two tombs beside which American feet will be 
sure to pause. Here, in this sculptured sarcophagus, 
sleeps the dust of E. B. B. Here, beneath this granite 
cross, lie the remains of Theodore Parker. At the first, 
I seemed to hear the stifled sobs that mourned a private 
sorrow too great to take account of the public loss. For 
what she gave the world, rich and precious as it was, was 
less than that inner, unalienable jewel which she could 
not give but in giving herself. And he who had both, the 
singer and her song, now goes through the world inter- 
rogating the ranks of womanhood for her peer. Seek 
it not ! She was unique. She died and left no fellow. 

A soberer cortege, probably, followed Theodore to 
his final resting-place. The grief of poets is ecstatic, 
and cannot be thought of without dramatic light and 
shade, imagined, if not known of. A sorrowing, 
patient woman, faithful through all reverses, stood 
beside the grave of the great preacher, the mighty dis- 
putant. She remembered that it had always been peace 
between her and this church militant. From every 
raid, every foray, into the disputed grounds of theory and 



132 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

opinion, she kept open for him a return to the ortho- 
doxy of domestic life. The basis of his days was a 
calm, well-ordered household, whose doors were opened 
or shut in accordance with his desire of the moment. 
Would he receive his whole congregation, or a meet- 
ing of the clergy, or a company more mixed and fash- 
ionable? The simple, well-appointed rooms were 
always in order ; the lights were always clear ; the car- 
pets swept ; the books and engravings in nice order. 
The staid New England women-servants brought in 
the refreshments, excellent of their kind, and carefully 
selected for their suitableness to the occasion. The 
wife sat or moved unobtrusively among her guests ; 
but she loved Theodore's friends, and made his visitors 
welcome. If Theodore had war without, and it became 
his business to have it, he had ever peace within. And 
this it was pleasant and exemplary to remember, stand- 
ing beside his grave. 

How often have I, in thought, linked these two graves 
together, striving to find a middle term or point of 
meeting for them both ! The distant image of the spot 
was sacred and dear to me. The person of the one, the 
character of the other, were fixed among my affections. 
For let me say here that though I have criticised Par- 
ker's theology, adopting neither his methods nor his 
conclusions, of Parker himself I have never ceased to 
think as of a person with a grand and earnest scope, 
of large powers and generous nature. He was ten- 
der in large and in little, a sympathist in practice as 
well as a philanthropist in theory. My heart still 



VENICE. 133 

warms and expands at the remembrance of what he was 
in the pulpit and at the fireside. Nor was he the less a 
stern moralist because he considered the ordinary the- 
ories of sin as unjust and insufficient. No one would 
better console you for a sin deplored, no one could more 
forcibly deprecate a sin contemplated. He painted his 
time more wicked than it was, and saw it so. A 
modern Dante, all in the force of prose, E. B. B. lies 
here like the sweet Beatrice, who was at hand when 
the cruel task of criticism was over, to build before the 
corrected vision of the great pilgrim the silvery shrines 
and turrets of the New Jerusalem. So will we leave 
them — a lesser Dante, a greater Beatrice, and one who 
has borne record of herself. 

Venice. 

Venice, which I seek to hold fast, is already a thing 
of yesterday. " Haste is of the devil," truly says the 
Koran, whose prophet yet knew its value. But the 
strokes of the pen need deliberation as much as those 
of the sword need swiftness. Strength goes with Time, 
and skill against him. 

Little of either had I after a night in the cars between 
Florence and Venice, — hot, dusty Florence, and cool, 
glassy Venice, — a night of starts and stops, morsels 
of sleep set in large frames of uneasy waking. The 
steep ascent of the Apennines is only partially descried 
through the darkness. It begins at Pistoia, and when 
it ends, Pistoia lies vertically under you, at the bottom 
of what seems in the darkness an abyss, in which its 



134 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

lights shine brightly. Tunnels there are in plenty on 
this road, and one of these threatens us with suffocation. 
For the engine was unduly replenished with coal at 
Pistoia in view of the hard task before it, and the undi- 
gested food vented itself in unwholesome gases, which 
the constraints of the tunnel drove in upon us, filling the 
lungs with mephitic stuff which caused them to ache 
for more than an hour afterwards. This part of the 
journey was made pleasant to us by the presence of a 
Venetian lady, handsome, intelligent, and cordial. At 
Bologna w T e lost her, making also a long stop. The 
hour was three in the morning ; the place, a bare rail- 
road depot. The hour passed there would not have 
been patiently endured by an American public. But 
Italians endure every possible inconvenience from the 
railway management, which is clearly conducted on 
pessimistic principles. On reaching the cars again, 
another pleasant companion shortened the time with easy 
conversation. Not but that we dozed a little after the 
weary night ; and the priest in the opposite compart- 
ment fell asleep over his morning prayers. But my 
new companion and I made our way through a shoal 
of general remarks to the terra jirma of a mutual ac- 
quaintance, in whose praises both of us grew warm. 
And at length we began to see marshes, and waters, and 
a fortress. " That is Venice," said the captain ; and I 
replied with sincere surprise, u Is it possible?" For 
Venice, as approached by the railroad, makes no im- 
pression, presents no coup d'oeil. And this marks a 
precaution for which the devisers of railroads in this 



VENICE. I35 

country may deserve praise. Being pure men of business, 
and not sentimentalists, they do not wish to find them- 
selves mixed up with any emotions consequent upon 
the encounter of the sublime and beautiful. They can- 
not become responsible for any enthusiasm. And so, 
in their entrances and exits, they sedulously avoid the 
picturesque, and lead the traveller into no temptation 
towards stopping and lingering by the way. Of two 
possible routes, they, on principle, choose the more 
prosaic ; so that the railroad traveller nowhere gets 
less beauty for his money than in this same Italy, the 
flower-garden of the world. 

The arrival even in Venice becomes, therefore, vul- 
gar and commonplace in their management. And soon 
one gets one's luggage out of the clutches of guar- 
dians and porters, and cheaply, in an omnibus gondola, 
one swashes through a great deal of middling water, 
landing finally at Hotel Barbesi, where breakfast and 
the appliances of repose are obtained. 

We did not prudently devote this first day to sleep, as 
we ought to have done. The energy of travel was still 
in us, and we aroused ourselves, and went forth. The 
valet de place, with high cheek-bones, a fresh color^ 
and vivacious eyes, led us on foot to the Place and 
Cathedral of St. Mark, the Ducal Palace, the Bridge 
of Sighs, and prisons of the condemned. We visited 
the great council-halls, superb with fretted gilding, and 
endless paintings by Tintoretto and Bellini. We saw 
the Lion's Mouth, into which anonymous accusations 
were dropped ; the room of the Ten ; the staircase all in 



136 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

white and gold, sacred to the feet of Doge and Doga- 
ressa alone. As magnificent as is the palace, so miser- 
able are the prisons, destitute of light, and almost of 
air — a series of small, close parallelograms, with a 
small hole for a window, opening only into a dark cor- 
ridor, containing each a stony elevation, on which, 
perhaps, a pallet of straw was placed. Heaven forbid 
that the blackest criminal of our day should confront the 
justice of God with so poor a report to make of the mercy 
of man ! In the dreaminess of our fatigue, we next 
visited a bead factory, and inspected some of its delicate 
operations. And then came the table d'hote, and with 
it a little whiff of toilet and hotel breeding, sufficiently 
irksome and distasteful. In the evening there was to be 
a Fresco, or procesison of gondolas on the great canal, 
with lanterns and music, in honor of Prince Plomplon, 
who was at Danieli's hotel. Uncertain whether to en- 
gage a gondola or not, I sat in the garden balcony of 
Barbesi's, immediately over the canal. I saw the gon- 
dolas of high society flit by, gay with flags and colored 
lanterns, the gondoliers in full livery. Their attitude in 
rowing is singular. They stand slanting forward, so 
that one almost expects to see them fall on their faces. 
In the gondola, however, one becomes aware of the 
skill and nicety with which they impel and guide their 
weird-looking vehicles. 

The Fresco was to be at nine o'clock ; but by an hour 
earlier the gondolas were frequent. And soon a bark, 
with lanterns and a placard announcing an associa- 
tion of artists, stopped beneath our balcony, while its 



VENICE. I37 

occupants, with vigorous lungs, shouted a chorus or 
two in the Venetian dialect. The effect was good ; 
but when one of the singers asked for a " piccola bot- 
tiglia" and proceeded, hat in hand, to collect from 
each of us a small contribution, we felt that such an 
act was rather compromising for the artists. In truth, 
these men were artisans, not artists ; but the Italian lan- 
guage has but one word for the two meanings, contriv- 
ing to distinguish them in other ways. 

The stream of gondolas continued to thicken on the 
canal, and at nine o'clock, or thereabouts, a floating 
theatre made its appearance — a large platform, bril- 
liantly lighted, and bearing upon it a numerous orches- 
tra and chorus. The chef d 'orchestre was clearly 
visible as he passed, energetically dividing the melody 
and uniting the performers. This lovely music floated 
up and down the quiet waters, many lesser lights clus- 
tering around the greater ones. Comparison seems to 
be the great trick of descriptive writing ; but I, for my 
part, cannot tell what the Fresco was like. It was like 
nothing that I have ever seen. 

And I saw it in the intervals of a leaden stupor ; for, 
after the sleepless night and active day, the quiet of 
Barbesi's balcony was too much for me. Fain would 
I have hired a gondola, have gone forth to follow the 
musical crusade, albeit that to homage a Napoleon be 
small business for an American. But by a new sort of 
centaurship, my chair and I were that evening one, and 
the idea of dividing the two presented itself only in the 
light of an impossibility. Roused by the exclamations 



I38 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

of those about me, I awoke from time to time, and me- 
chanically took note of what I have here described, 
returning to sleep again, until a final wrench, like the 
partition of soul and body, sent me with its impetus to 
the end of all days — bed. 

The fatigue of this day made itself severely felt in the 
waking of the next morning. Shaking off a deadly 
stupor and dizziness, I arose and armed for the day's 
warfare. My first victim was the American consul, 
who, at the sight of a formidable letter of introduction, 
surrendered at discretion. Annexing the consul, I bore 
him in triumph to my gondola, but not until I had in- 
duced him to find me a lodging, which he did speedily ; 
for of Barbesi and many francs per diem I had already 
enough, and preferred charities nearer home to that of 
enriching him. I do, moreover, detest hotel life, and 
the black-coated varlets that settle, like so many flies, 
upon your smallest movement. I have more than once 
intrenched myself in my room, determining to starve 
there rather than summon in the imps of the bell. With 
the consul's aid, which was, I must say, freely given, I 
secured to myself the disposal of a snug bedroom and 
parlor, with a balcony leading into a music-haunted 
garden, full of shiny foliage, mostly lemon and myrtle 
trees, having also a convenient access to the grand canal. 
After this, we proceeded to the Church of the Frari, rich 
with the two monuments of Titian and Canova. Both 
are architectural as well as sculptural. That of Canova 
is a repetition of his own model, executed in the well- 
known Vienna monument, with the addition, I thought, 



VENICE. 



139 



of a winged lion and one or two figures not included in 
the other. The monument of Titian stands opposite to 
that already described. The upper portion of it pre- 
sents a handsome facade enclosed in three arches, each 
of which contains a bas-relief of one of his great pic- 
tures. The middle one presents the Assumption, in 
sculpture ; that on the right the Entombment of Christ ; 
that on the left the St. Peter Martyr — the picture itself 
being in the sacristy of the Church of Santi Giovanni 
e Paolo. The Frari also contains a curious and elab- 
orate monument to a doge whose name I forget. Above 
sits the doge in his ducal chair ; below, four black slaves 
clad in white marble, their black knees showing through 
their white trousers, support the upper part of the monu- 
ment upon their heads. Two bronze Deaths, between 
the doge and the slaves, bear each a scroll in white 
marble, with long inscriptions, which we did not read. 
The choir was adorned with the usual row of seats, 
richly carved in black walnut. From this rich and 
interesting temple we passed to the Academia delle 
belle Arti. 

This institution contains many precious and beautiful 
works of art. The Venetian school is, however, to the 
Florentine much as Rossini's Barbiere to Dante's Divi- 
na Commedia. Here all is color, vitality, energy. The 
superabundance of life and of temperament does not 
allow the severer deliberations of thoughtful art. The 
finest picture of this school, the Assumption of Titian, 
is the intense embodiment of the present, an ideal 
moment that presupposes no antecedent and no succes- 



140 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

sor. It is as startling as a sudden vision. But it is 
a vision of life, not of paradise. The Madonna is a 
grand, simple, human woman, whose attitude is more 
rapt than her expression. She stands in the middle of 
the picture, upon a mass of clouds, which two pendent 
cherubs deliciously loop up. Above, the Eternal Fa- 
ther, wonderfully foreshortened, looks down upon her. 
Beneath, the apostles are gazing at the astonishing rev- 
elation. All is in the strongest drawing, the most vig- 
orous coloring. Yet the pale-eyed Raphaels have more 
of the inward heaven in them. For this is a dream of 
sunset, not of transfiguration. So great a work of art 
is, however, a boon beyond absolute criticism. Like a 
precious personality, its value settles the account of its 
being, however widely it may depart from the standard 
recognized in other things. 

In the same hall is the last work of Titian, a Pieta, 
or figure of the dead Christ upon his mother's knees. 
This picture is so badly placed that its effects can only 
be inferred, absolute glare and darkness putting out its 
light and shade. Far from the joyous allegro of Titian's 
characteristic style, the coloring presents a greenish 
pallor, rather negative and monotonous. The composi- 
tion of the picture is artistic, tonic, and harmonious ; its 
expression high and pathetic. The ebbing tide of the 
great master's vitality left this pearl on the shore of 
time. 

The Presentation of the Virgin in the Temple, by 
Titian, is another of the famous pictures in this collec- 
tion. The Virgin is represented as a maiden of ten 



VENICE. 141 

years, ascending the steps of the temple at Jerusalem. 
The figure and the steps are both of them seen in pro- 
file. Her pale-blue dress is relieved by an oblong glory 
which surrounds her from head to foot. More famous 
is a large Paul Veronese, representing Christ at supper 
in the house of the Pharisee. The richness of the 
Venetian costumes, the vigor and vitality of the figures, 
give this picture its great charm. It is no nearer to 
Christ and Jerusalem " than I to Hercules." A large 
painting by a French artist, in this hall, replaces the 
great Paul Veronese taken to Paris by Napoleon I., — 
the Cena, — and, to my mind, replaces it very poorly. 
The huge paintings of Tintoretto are among the things 
that amaze one in Venice. How one hand, guided by 
one brain, could, in any average human life, have cov- 
ered such enormous spaces of canvas, is a problem and 
a puzzle. The paintings themselves are full of vigor, 
color, and variety. But one naturally values them less 
on account of their great number. Of course, in the 
style of Raphael or Perugino, a single life could not 
have produced half of them. The Venetian school 
is sketchy, and its figures often have more toilet than 
anatomy. 

I am almost ashamed to speak of these pictures at all, 
since I speak of them so inadequately. Yet, gentle 
reader, all is not criticism that criticises, all is not 
enthusiasm that admires. Copious treatises are written 
on these subjects by people who know as little of them 
as is possible for a person of average education. Amer- 
cans have especially to learn that a general tolerable 



142 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

intelligence does not give a man special knowledge in 
matters of art. Among the herd of trans-Atlantic trav- 
ellers who yearly throng these galleries, they know most 
who pretend least to know. 

A brief interval of rest and dinner enabled us to visit 
the Armenian Convent at San Lazzaro. For this excur- 
sion two rowers were requisite. Starting at five P. M., 
we reached the convent in half an hour. It stands upon 
an island which its walls and enclosures fill. The 
porter opens to us. We have a letter of introduction 
from Ex-Consul Howills to Padre Giacomo, and bring 
also a presentation copy of the late consul's work on 
Venice. The padre receives us with courteous gravity. 
We make acquaintance with his monkey before we 
make acquaintance with him. The monkey leaps on 
the neophyte's hat, tears off a waxen berry, and eats it. 
His master thoughtfully leads us through the dreamy 
rooms and passages of the convent. Here is the room 
that Byron occupied ; here is his name, written in Ar- 
menian in his own hand. Here also is Prince Plon- 
plon's name, written by him in the book of illustrious 
visitors. After showing it, the padre offers another 
book, for commonplace visitors, in which he invites me 
to enter my name : I humbly comply. We visit the 
chapel, which is handsome, and the pleasant garden. 
The printing establishment interests us most. These 
Armenian fathers are great polyglots, and print books 
in a variety of languages. Padre Giacomo, who speaks 
good English, shows us an Armenian translation of 
Napoleon's Life of Julius Caesar, which we are surprised 



VENICE. I43 

and rather sorry to see. We afterwards hear it sug- 
gested that the expense of this work has probably been 
borne by the French emperor himself, with a view to 
the Eastern question. Among the antiquities of the 
convent we find a fine Armenian manuscript of the 
fourth century ; among its modern curiosities, a book of 
prayers in thirty languages. In the refectory is a pul- 
pit, from which one monk reads aloud, while the others 
dine. Connected with this convent is a college for the 
education of Armenian youths, either for the priesthood 
or for active life. Another institution, in Venice prop- 
er, receives from this those scholars who decide upon 
an ecclesiastical profession. Padre Giacomo had al- 
ready bought Consul Howill's book for the convent 
library. He led us, lastly, into a small room, in which 
are kept the publications of the convent, to be sold for 
its benefit. Here we made a few purchases, and took 
leave, trusting to see Padre Giacomo again. 

One of my earliest acts in Venice, after the first pre- 
liminaries of living, was to get from a circulating library 
the first volume of Mr. Ruskin's Stones of Venice. I 
have never been a reader of Mr. Ruskin, and my posi- 
tion towards him is that of an outside unbeliever. I shun 
his partisans and disbelieve his theories. The title of this 
book, however, seemed to promise a key to the archi- 
tectural mysteries of the mirror city, and I, taking him 
at his word, reached out eagerly after the same. But 
Mr. Ruskin's key opens a great many preliminary doors 
before admitting you to the point desired, and my one 
busy week was far too short to follow the intricacies of 



144 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

his persuasions. I could easily see that the book, right 
or wrong, would add to the pleasure and interest of in- 
vestigating the city. Mr. Ruskin is an author who gives 
to his readers a great deal of thought and of study. His 
very positive mode of statement has this advantage ; it 
sums up one side of the matter so exhaustively as to 
make comparatively easy the construction of the oppo- 
site argument, and the final decision between the two. 
Yet, while the writer's zeal and genius lead us to follow 
his reasonings with interest, and often with pleasure, his 
judgment scarcely possesses that weight and impartial- 
ity which would lead us to acquiesce in his decisions. 
Those who fully yield to his individual charm adopt and 
follow his opinions to all extremes. This already shows 
his power. But they scarcely become as wise as do 
those who resist, and having fully heard him, continue 
to observe and to think for themselves. And as, in Cole- 
ridge's well-known lines, anxiety is expressed as to the 
human agency that can cleanse the River Rhine when 
that river has cleansed the city of Cologne, we must con- 
fess that our expectations always desire the man who 
shall criticise Mr. Ruskin, wdien he has criticised to his 
full extent. For there is one person whom he cannot 
criticise, and that is himself. To do this would involve 
a deliberation of thought, an exactness of style, to which 
even Mr. Ruskin cannot pretend. 

With his help, however, I did observe the two gran- 
ite columns in the Piazzetta, to whose shafts he gives 
fifteen feet of circumference, and to their octagonal 
bases fifty-six, a discrepancy exceeding the difference 



VENICE. 145 

which the eye would measure. But he certainly ought 
to know. And 1 found also the columns brought from 
St. Jean d'Acre, which are, as he does not mention, 
square, and of a dark marble, with Oriental capitals 
and adornments. And I sought out, in the church of 
SS. Giov. e Paolo, two dogal monuments, of which he 
praises one and criticises the other with stress. The 
one praised is that of Doge Mocenigo ; the other, that 
of Doge Vendramin. I did not find in either a signifi- 
cance to warrant the extensive notice he gives them. 
Having learned, with great satisfaction, that the artist 
of the monument which "dislikes" him was afterwards 
exiled from Venice for forgery, he proceeds to speak of 
" this forger's work," allowing no benefit of doubt. 
And this was my account w^ith Mr. Ruskin, so far as 
the Stones of Venice are concerned ; for time so short- 
ened, and objects so multiplied, that I was constrained 
thereafter to dispense with his complicated instruments 
of vision, and to look at things simply with my own 
eyes. 

We made various visits to the Cathedral of San Marco, 
whose mosaic saints, on gold backgrounds, greet you 
in the portico with delight. The church is very rich 
in objects of art and in antiquities. It has columns 
from Palestine, dogal monuments, tessellated pavements, 
in endless variety. But the mosaics in the sacristy were 
for me its richest treasure. They comprise the consci- 
entious labors mentioned by George Sand, in her Mai- 
tres Mosaistes. The easy arch of the ceiling allows 
one to admire them without the painful straining usu- 
10 



146 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

ally entailed by the study of fresco or other ceiling 
adornment. In a small chapel we were shown a large 
baptismal font brought from Palestine, and the very 
stone on which John Baptist's head was cut off! 

We went in, one Sunday, hoping to see the famous 
falle oVoro, an altar-covering in massive gold, exhibited 
only on rare Festas, of which this day was one. But 
while we wedged ourselves in among the crowd, one 
of our party descried a boy with the pustules of small 
pox still fresh upon his face. We fled in precipitation, 
marvelling at the sanitary negligence which allows such 
exposures to take place at the public risk. 

We visited the Church of the Scalzi (Barefooted 
Friars), and found it very rich in African and other 
marbles. It boasts some splendid columns of nero an- 
tico. One of the side chapels has four doors executed 
in Oriental alabaster, together with simulated hangings 
in rosso antico, the fringe being carved in giallo. An- 
other was adorned with oval slabs of jasper, very beau- 
tiful in color and in polish. The ceiling, painted in 
fresco by Tiepolo, was full of light and airy grace. 

From this, we went to the Church of the Gesuiti, in 
high repute for the richness of its adornments. We 
found it a basilica, its sides divided by square piers, and 
the whole interior, piers and walls, covered with a dam- 
asked pattern wrought in verd antique upon a ground 
of white marble. The capitals of the piers were heav- 
ily gilded. The baldecchino of the high altar was 
dome-shaped, and covered on the outside with a scol- 
loped pattern in verd antique, each scollop having a 



VENICE. 147 

slender bordering of white marble. The baldecchino 
is supported by four twisted columns formed of small 
rounded pieces of verd antique closely joined together. 
The pulpit has a heavy marble drapery, with simulated 
fringe, all in the pattern already mentioned. The whole 
is more luxurious than beautiful. Its art bears no pro- 
portion to its expense. To those who think of the Jesu- 
its in general as I do, it will hardly stand as a monu- 
ment of saintly service and simplicity. Near the high 
altar rest the ashes of the last Doge of Venice. The 
spot is designated by a simple slab, forming part of the 
pavement. On it is written, "^Eternitate suce Manini 
cineres" 

We visited two very good collections of antiquities, 
in one of which we found the door of the Bucen- 
taur, and its banner of crimson silk, with gilded de- 
signs. Here were portraits of doges, curious arms, 
majolicas, and old Venetian glass, much finer than that 
of the present day. Here also are collected many 
relics of Canova, the most interesting of which are the 
small designs for his great works. Over the door of 
this museum stands a pathetic inscription to the effect 
that Michel Correr, " vedendo cadere la f atria" had 
collected here many things of patriotic and historical 
interest. 

But these prosaic recounts are only the record of 
actual steps. The charm, the delight of Venice they 
do not and cannot express. My recollections of the 
city invest her with a solemn and stately personality. I 
did not see her bowed beneath the Austrian yoke, be- 



148 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

trayed, but not sold, refusing to be cajoled and comfort- 
ed. That cloud was removed. The shops were busy and 
prosperous, the streets thronged with people, the canals 
gay with gondolas, bearing also barges and large and 
small boats of very various patterns. The Piazza was 
filled at night with social groups of people, less child- 
ish, methought, than other Italians, and with a more 
visible purpose in them. Still, the contrast of the past 
and present, no longer shameful and agonizing, was full 
of melancholy. Venice can never be what she has 
been. The present world has no room for a repetition 
of her former career. But she can be a prosperous and 
happy Christian commonwealth, with her offices and 
dignities vested in her own sons, with education and 
political rights secured to all her children. And this is 
better, in the present day, than to be the tyrant of one 
half of the world, the fear and admiration of the other. 
For Peace, now, with open hands, bestows the bless- 
ings which War formerly compelled with iron grasp 
and frowning brow. The true compulsion now is to 
compel the world to have need of you, by the excellence 
of your service. Industry has a deeper mine of wealth 
than piracy or plunder can ever open. A man's success 
is in strict proportion to his use ; and the servant of all 
is the master of all. So the new Venice for which I 
look is to be no more like the old Venice than the new 
Jerusalem will be like the city of David. Moral gran- 
deur must make her great. Justice must make her 
people happy. And so beautiful and delightful is she, 
that I cannot help echoing the Psalmist's exclamation, 



VENICE. 149 

"Pray for the peace of Jerusalem ! They shall prosper 
who love thee ! " 

A wash of waters, a play of lights, a breeze that cools 
like the perfumed water of the Narguile, a constant inter- 
change of accents musically softened from the soft Ital- 
ian itself, which seems hard in comparison with them ; 
rows of palaces that have swallowed their own story ; 
churches modelled upon the water like wax-flowers 
upon a mirror ; balconies with hangings of yellow-brown 
and white ; dark canals, that suggest easy murders and 
throwing over of victims ; music on the water; robust 
voices, of well-defined character ; columns and arches, 
over which Mr. Ruskin raves, and which for him are 
significant of religion or irreligion ; resolute-looking 
men and women ; a world of history and legend which 
he who has to live in to-day can scarcely afford time 
to decipher, — this is Venice as I have seen her, and 
would see her again. Rejoice, O sister cities, that she 
is free. Visit her with your golden rain, O travellers ; 
with your golden sympathy, O poets ! Enrich her, com- 
merce ! Protect her, Christian faith of nations, for she 
is free — free ! 

To me she is already a recollection. For after the 
days of which I have so briefly told, a far summons 
carried me to an elder land, a more mournful mystery. 
Looking, but not loving my last, I packed the wearisome 
trunk, paid for the nights and dinners, owing little else 
at my lodging. A certain nightingale, who, at eight 
precisely every morning, broke in upon my slumbers 
with delicious singing, did not figure in the bill. But 



150 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

remembering his priceless song, I almost regret my ob- 
jections to certain items set down in the account 
against me. And I had a last row in the gondola, and 
a last ice in the Piazzetta, and, last of all, a midnight 
embarkation on board the Austrian steamer for Trieste. 
Farewell, Sebastiano, my trusty gondolier. I shall not 
hear you cry, " Oh, juine " (giovine) again. I see the 
line of the Piazzetta, defined by the lamps. Brightly 
may they burn ; glad be the hearts that beat near them. 
And now they are all out of sight, and the one outside 
light is disappearing, too. Farewell, wonderful Venice. 
Thou wert painfully gotten together, no doubt, like other 
dwelling-places of man. Thou earnest of toiling and 
moiling, planning, digging, and stone-breaking. But 
thou lookest to have risen from the waters like a dream. 
And this wholeness of effect makes thee a great work 
of art, not henceforth to be plundered by the powerful 
ones of the earth, but to be cherished by the lovers of 
beauty, studied by the lovers of art. 

I will return upon my steps to mention one feature in 
the new Venice, a small and obscure one, whose signifi- 
cance greatly interested me. Having heard of a Prot- 
estant Italian congregation in the neighborhood of one 
of the great Catholic temples, I turned my steps one 
evening towards one of its meetings, and found, in a 
large upper chamber, a numerous assemblage of Ital- 
ians of various grades, chiefly people of the poorer 
class, who listened with attention to a fervent address 
from a young clergyman of their own nation. The dis- 
course had much of the spirit of religion, little of its 



VENICE. 151 

technic, and was thereby, I thought, the better adapted 
to the feeling of the congregation. A sprinkling of well- 
dressed men was observable. A prayer followed the 
discourse, in which the auditors joined with a hearty 
amen. This little kernel of Protestantism, dropped in a 
field so new, gave me the assurance of the presence of 
one of the most important elements in the progress and 
prosperity of any state, to wit, that of religious liberty. 
It is quite true that the sects under whose protection 
the Protestant Venetian church has sprung up — the 
Scotch and Swiss Presbyterians — can in no sense be 
considered as exponents of liberal ideas in religion. Cal- 
vinism, j)er se, is as absolute as Catholicism, and as cruel. 
The Calvinistic hell is but an adjourned Inquisition, in 
which controversialists have as great satisfaction in tor- 
menting the souls of their opponents as Torquemada 
had in tormenting their bodies. Yet Calvinism itself is 
a rough and barbaric symbolization of great truths 
which the discipline of Catholicism tended ever more 
and more to distance from the efficient lives of men. 
The principle of individual responsibility, the impossi- 
bility of moral action without, religious liberty, the in- 
ward character of religious acts and experiences, in con- 
tradistinction to the precepts and practice of a religion 
which had become all form, all observance. These 
ideas, gathered together by a vigorous mind, and made 
efficient by the constitution of a sect or party, were 
capable of regenerating modern Europe, and did so. For 
it will be found that all of its Protestant piety ran within 
the bounds of this somewhat narrow channel. But even 



152 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

here, the liberalizing influences of time are irresistible, 
and although the cruel and insufficient doctrines are 
still subscribed to by zealous millions, the practice and 
culture of the church itself become more and more lib- 
eral. The zeal for propagandist!!, which characterizes 
the less tolerant portion of the Protestant sects, makes 
their ministration on new ground efficient and valuable. 
The material hell, from which, in good faith, they seek 
to deliver those who hear them, symbolizes the infinite 
danger and loss to man of a life passed without the im- 
pulses and restraints of religion. A more philosophic 
statement would be far less tangible to the minds alike 
of teacher and disciple. Their intervention in commu- 
nities characterized by a low grade of religious culture 
is therefore useful, perhaps indispensable. And while 
I value and prize my own religious connections beyond 
aught else, I am thankful to the American missions that 
support Waldense preaching in Italy. They at least 
teach that a man is to think for himself, pray for him- 
self; and their worship, even when rudest and most un- 
cultured, is more an instruction of the multitude than a 
propitiation of the infinite love which is always ready 
to do for us more and better than we can ask. 

So, little Protestant congregation in Venice, my heart 
bids you God speed ! But may the love of God be 
preached to you rather than the torment of fear, and may 
the simplicity and beauty of the Christian doctrine and 
example preserve you alike from the passional and the 
metaphysical dangers of the day. 



greece and the voyage thither. 1 53 

Greece and the Voyage thither. 

" in a transition state." 

We have left Venice. We have passed an intolerable 
night on board the Austrian steamer, whose state-rooms 
are without air, its cabin without quiet, and its deck 
without shelter. So inconvenient a transport, in these 
days of steamboat luxury, makes one laugh and wonder. 
Trieste, our stopping-place, is the strangest mongrel, a 
perfect cur of a city (cur-i-o-sity). It is neither Italian, 
Greek, nor German, but all three of these, and many 
more. The hotel servants speak German and Italian, 
the shop-keepers also. Paper money passes without 
fight or agio upon the prices demanded. It seems to be 
par, with gold and silver at a premium. Much Oriental- 
looking merchandise is seen in the shop windows. The 
situation is fine, the port first rate. 

Our consul here, Mr. Alex. Thayer, is the author of the 
Life of Beethoven, already favorably known to the world 
as far as the first volume. The second, not yet com- 
pleted, is looked for with interest. Mr. Thayer's kind 
attentions made our short stay in Trieste pleasant, and 
our transit to the Austrian Lloyd's steamer easy, and 
within thirty-six hours after our arrival we found our- 
selves embarked on board the latter, en route for Syra, 
where we should find another Austrian Lloyd waiting 
to convey us to the Piraeus, the well-known port of 
Athens. 

Our voyage began with a stormy day. Incessant rain 
soaked the deck. A charming little upper cabin, cush- 



154 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

ioned and windowed like a luxurious carriage, gave us 
shelter, combined with fresh air — the cordial of those 
who " coelum et animum mutant, quia trans mare cur- 
rent" Here I pillowed myself in inevitable idleness, 
now become, alas ! too familiar, and amused myself 
with the energetic caquet of my companions. 

An elderly Greek gentleman, Count Lunzi of Zante, 
with a pleasing daughter ; a young Austrian, accompa- 
nied by a pretty sister ; an elderly Neapolitan bachelor, — 
these were our fellow-passengers in the first cabin. In 
the second cabin were eleven friars, and an intelligent 
Venetian apothecary, with whom I subsequently made 
acquaintance. The captain, a middle-aged Dalmatian, 
came and went. He wore over his uniform a capote of 
India rubber cloth, which he laid aside when he came 
into our deck-parlor for a brief sitting and a whiff of 
tobacco. The gentlemen all smoked without apology. 
The little Greek lady soon became violently seasick, 
and the Austrian maiden followed. The neophyte and 
the Austrian brother felt no pang, but the neophyte's 
mother was dizzy and uncomfortable. Count Lunzi 
and the Neapolitan kept up a perpetual conversation in 
French, having many mutual acquaintances, whose ab- 
sence they found it worth while to improve. I blessed 
their loquacity, which beguiled for me the weary, help- 
less hours. We went down to dinner ; at tea-time we 
were non compos mens is. The state-rooms below being 
intensely hot and close in consequence of the rain, we 
all staid up stairs as long as possible, and our final 
retreat was made in the order of our symptoms. 



GREECE AND THE VOYAGE THITHER. 1 55 

The following morning brought us the sun. The 
rain was at an end, and the sea grew less turbulent. The 
day was Sunday, and the unmistakable accents of the- 
ological controversy saluted my ears as I ascended the 
companion-way, and took my place in the deck-parlor. 
Count Lunzi, a liberal, and a student of German criti- 
cism, was vigorously belaboring three of the friars, who 
replied to him whenever they were able to get a word 
in, which was not often. His arguments supported $ the 
action of the Italian government in disbanding all mo- 
nastic fraternities throughout its dominions, giving to 
each member a small pension, and inviting all to live by 
exercising the duties of their profession as secular priests. 
Our friars had concluded to expatriate, rather than secu- 
larize, themselves, and w T ere now en route for Kaiafa, a 
place concerning which I could only learn that it was 
in Syria. They were impugned, according to the 
ancient superstition, as the causes of our bad embarka- 
tion and rough voyage. They were young and vigor- 
ous men, and the old count not unreasonably urged 
them to abandon a career now recognized as useless and 
obsolete, and to earn their bread by some availing labor. 
The circle of the controversy widened. More friars 
came up from below. The ship's surgeon joined him- 
self to them, the Venetian siding with the count. The 
Neapolitan stood by to see fair play, and a good part 
of the day of rest was occupied by this symphony of 
discord. 

I confess that, although the friars' opinions were ab- 
horrent to mine, I yet wished that they might have been 



156 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

let alone. Even Puritan Milton does not set a Calvin- 
istic angel to argue with Adam and Eve concerning the 
justice of their expulsion from Paradise. The journey 
itself was pain enough, without the reprobation. As 
the friars had been turned out of their comfortable nests, 
and were poor and disconsolate, I myself would sooner 
have given them an obolus unjustified by theory than a 
diatribe justified by logic. But the old count was sin- 
cere and able, and at least presented to them views 
greatly in advance of their bigotry and superstition. 
While this conversation went on, we passed Lissa, where 
the Italian fleet was repulsed by the Austrians, during 
the war of Italian unity. Our fellow-passenger of the 
nation second named quietly exults over this event. He 
does well. Austrian victories have been rare of late. 
Of the day following my diary says, — 

June 17. — In sight of the Acroceraunian moun- 
tains and shore of Albania. Vessel laboring with head 
wind, I with Guizot's Meditations, which also have 
some head wind in them. They seem tome inconclu- 
sive in statement, and insufficient in thought, presenting, 
nevertheless, some facts and considerations of interest. 
At a little before tw 7 o P. M., w 7 e pass Fano, the island in 
which Calypso could not console herself; and no wonder. 
At two we enter the channel of Corfu, but do not reach 
the shore itself until five o'clock. A boat conveys us to 
the shore, where, with our Austrian friends, we engage 
a carriage, and drive to view the environs. 

This is my first experience of Greece. The streets 
are narrow and irregular, the men mostly in European 



GREECE AND THE VOYAGE THITHER. 157 

costume, with here and there a fustanella. Our drive 
took us to a picturesque eminence, commanding a 
lovely prospect. It led us through a sort of Elysian 
field, planted with shade trees, where the populace on 
gala days go to sip coffee, and meet their friends and 
neighbors. Returning to the town, we pass several 
large hotels and cafes, at one of which we order ices. I 
puzzle myself in vain with the Greek signs over the 
shop windows. Our leave of absence having expired, 
we hasten back to the steamer, but find its departure 
delayed by the labor of embarking a Turkish dignitary, 
Achmed Pacha, who, with a numerous suite, male and 
female, is to take passage with us for the Dardanelles. 

A steamer, bearing the Crescent flag at her mast-head, 
was anchored alongside of our own. Our hitherto 
quiet quarters were become a little Babel of strange 
tongues and costumes. Any costume artist would have 
gone mad with delight over the variety of coats and 
colors which our new visitors displayed. Those won- 
derful jackets and capotes, which are the romance of 
stage and fancy-ball attire, here appeared as the com- 
mon prose of every-day dress. Every man wore a fez. I 
remember a handsome youth, whose crimson head-gear 
contrasted with a white sheepskin jacket with wide, 
hanging sleeves — the sleeves not worn on the arms, 
but at the back ; the close vest, loose, short skirt, and 
leggings were also white — the whole very effective. He 
was only one figure of a brilliant panorama, but treach- 
erous memory does not give me the features of the 
others. 



158 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

Our vessel, meanwhile, was engaged in swallowing 
the contents of the Turkish steamer with the same 
deliberation with which an anaconda swallows a bul- 
lock. The Turks and Albanians might scream and 
chatter, and declaim the whole Koran at their pleasure, 
the great crane w T ent steadily on — hoisting bale after 
bale, and lowering the same into our hold. This house- 
hold stuff consisted principally of rugs and bedding, 
with trunks, boxes, and kitchen furniture, and some 
mysterious bundles whose contents could not be conjec- 
tured. 

The sight of this unwholesome-looking luggage sug- 
gested to some of us possible communication of cholera, 
or eastern plague. The neophyte and I sat hand in 
hand, looking ruefully on, and wondering how soon we 
should break out. But when the dry goods were dis- 
posed of, the transfer of the human merchandise from 
one vessel to the other seized our attention, and put our 
fears out of sight. 

Our first view of the pacha's harem show T ed us a 
dozen or more women crouching on the deck of the 
Turkish, steamer, their heads and faces bundled up with 
white muslin veils, which concealed hair, forehead, 
mouth, and chin, leaving exposed to view only the 
triangle of the eyes and nose. Several children w T ere 
there, who at first sight all appeared equally dirty and 
ill-dressed. We were afterwards able to distinguish 
differences between them. 

The women and children came on board in a body, 
and took up a position on the starboard side of the 



GREECE AND THE VOYAGE THITHER. 1 59 

deck. With them came an old man-servant, in a long 
garment of whitish woollen cloth, who defined their 
boundaries by piling up certain bales of property. 
In the space thus marked off, mattresses were at once laid 
down and spread with coverlets ; for these women were 
to pass night as well as day on deck. Five ladies of the 
pacha's family at once intrenched themselves in one of 
the small cabins below, where, with five children, they 
continued for the remainder of the voyage, without 
exercise or ventilation. Too sacred to be seen by 
human eyes, these ladies made us aware of their pres- 
ence by the sound of their incessant chattering, by the 
odor of their tobacco, and by the screaming of one of 
their little ones, an infant of eight months. 

When these things had been accomplished, our cap- 
tain sent word to the pacha that he was ready to depart. 
The great man's easy-chair — by no means a splendid 
one — was then carried on board, and the great man 
himself, accompanied by his son-in-law and his drago- 
man, came among us. He was a short, stout person, 
some fifty years of age, and wore a dark military coat, 
with a gold stripe on the shoulder, and lilac trousers. 
His dragoman was a Greek. He and his suite smoked 
vigorously, and stared somewhat, as, with the neophyte 
on one side and the little Austrian lady on the other, I 
walked up and down the deck. The women and the 
old servant all slept a la belle etoile. The pacha and 
his officers had state-rooms in the saloon ; the other 
men w T ere in the third cabin. I forgot to say that at 
Corfu we left Count Lunzi and his amiable daughter, 



l6o FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

whose gracious manners and good English did credit to 
Mrs. Hills's excellent tuition, which the young lady 
had enjoyed for some years at her well-known school in 
Athens. 

When we came on deck the next morning, we found 
some of the Turkish women still recumbent, others 
seated upon their mattresses. Two of the children, a 
girl of ten years and a boy of twelve, went about under 
orders, and carried dishes and water-vessels between the 
cabin and the deck. We afterwards learned that these 
were Albanian slaves. The girl was named Haspir, 
the boy Ali. The first had large dark eyes and a mel- 
ancholy expression of countenance ; the boy also had 
Oriental eyes, whose mischievous twinkle was tempered 
by the gravity of his situation. The old servant, whom 
they called Baba, ate his breakfast in a corner. He had 
a miscellaneous looking dish of fish, bread, and olives. 
The women fed chiefly, as far as I could judge, on 
cucumbers and radishes, which they held and munched. 
Water was given from a brazen pitcher, of a pattern 
decidedly Oriental. Coffee was served to the invisible 
family in the small cabin. I did not see the women on 
deck partake of it. But from this time the scope 
of my observations was limited. A canvas partition, 
made fast to the mast overhead, now intervened, to pre- 
serve this portion of the harem from the pollution of 
external regards. Henceforth, we had glimpses of its 
members only when a lurch of the steamer swayed the 
canvas wall far out of equilibrium. The far niente 
seemed to be their fate, without alternative. Nor book 



GREECE AND THE VOYAGE THITHER. l6l 

nor needle had they. The children came outside, and 
peeped at us. Baba, grim guardian of the household, 
sat or squatted among his bales, oftenest quite unoc- 
cupied, but sometimes smoking, or chattering with the 
children. I took my modest drawing-book, and, with 
unsteady hand, began to sketch him in pen and ink. 
He soon divined my occupation, and kept as still as a 
mouse until by a sign I released him, when he begged, 
in the same language, to see what I had drawn. I next 
tried to get a croquis of a pretty little girl who played 
about, wearing a pink wadded sack over a gown and 
trousers of common flowered calico, buff and brown. 
She was disposed to wriggle out of sight ; but Baba 
threatened her, and she was still. 

Presently, the slave-boy, Ali, came up from the select 
cabin below, bearing in his arms an ill-conditioned little 
creature, two years of age, who had come on board in 
a cashmere pelisse lined with fur, a pink wadded under- 
jacket, and a pair of trousers of dirty common calico. 
He had now discarded the fur-pelisse. On his round 
little head he wore a cap of pink cashmere, soiled and 
defaced, with a large gold coin attached to it. A 
natural weakness drew me towards the little wretch, 
whom I tried to caress. Ali patted him tenderly, and 
said, " Pacha." This was indeed the youngest member, 
save one, of the pacha's family — the true baby being 
the infant secluded down stairs, whose frequent cries 
appealed in vairi for change of air and of scene. The 
two-year-old had already the title of bey. 

" Can a baby a bey be? " I asked, provoking the dis- 
ii 



1 62 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

gust which a pun is sure to awaken in those who have 
not made it. 

We met the pacha at meals, interchanging mute sal- 
utations. He had a pleasant, helpless sort of smile, and 
ate according to the orthodox standard of nicety. On 
deck some attendant constantly brought him a pipe com- 
posed of a large knob of amber, which served as a mouth 
piece, and a reed some eight inches in length, bearing a 
lighted cigar. 

As we sat much in our round house, it was inevitable 
that I should at last establish communication with him 
through the mediation of a young Greek passenger, who 
spoke both Turkish and French. 

It was from the pacha that I learned that Haspir and 
Ali were slaves. The little girl whom I had sketched 
was his daughter. I inquired about a girl somew 7 hat 
younger, who played with this one. The pacha signi- 
fied that he had given the mother of his daughter to 
one of his men, and that the second little girl was born 
of this connection. The two younger children already 
spoken of were born of another mother, probably each 
of a different one. 

" O Christian marriage ! " I thought, as I looked on 
this miscellaneous and inorganic family, " let us not 
complain of thy burdens." 

With us the birth of a child is the strongest bond of 
union between its parents ; with the Oriental it is the 
signal for separation. No society will ever permanently 
increase whose structure rests on an architecture so 
feeble. The Turkish empire might spread by conquest 



GREECE AND THE VOYAGE THITHER. 1 63 

and thrive by plunder. But at home it can never compete 
with nations in which family life has individuality of 
centre and equality of obligation. With Greeks and 
Albanians to work for them, and pay them tribute, the 
Turks are able to attain a certain wealth. It is the 
wealth, however, which impoverishes mankind, exhaust- 
ing the sources of industry and of enterprise. Let the 
Turk live upon what he can earn, and we shall hear little 
of him. 

The women sometimes struggled out from their canvas 
enclosure, and went below on various errands. On these 
occasions they were enveloped in a straight striped cover- 
ing, white and red, much like a summer counterpane. 
This was thrown over the head, held together between 
the teeth, and reached to the feet. It left in view 
their muslin head-dresses, and calico trousers, gathered 
at the ankle, nothing more. A few were barefoot — one 
or two only wore stockings. Most of them were shod 
with brodequins, of a size usually worn by men. 

At a late hour in the afternoon, Ali brought to their 
enclosure a round metal dish of stewed meat, cut in 
small pieces for the convenience of those whose customs 
are present proof that fingers were made before knives 
and forks. A great dish of rice simultaneously made 
its appearance. Baba chattered very much, Ali made 
himself busy, and a little internal commotion became 
perceptible behind the canvas wall. 

My opportunity of observing Turkish manners was as 
brief as it was limited. Having taken the Moslems on 
board on Monday, well towards evening, the Wednesday 



164 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

following saw, at ten A. M., my exit from the steamer. 
For we were now in the harbor of Syra. When I 
came on deck, soon after five A. M., the pacha sent me 
coffee in a little cup with a silver stand. It was pre- 
pared after the Turkish manner, and was fragrant and 
delicious. While we were at breakfast, Mr. Saponzaki, 
American consul at Syra, came on board in search of 
me, followed soon by an old friend, Mr. Evangelides. 
With real regret I took leave of the friendly captain 
and pleasant companions of the voyage. I shook hands 
with the pacha, not unmindful of the miseries of Crete. 
Baba also gave me a parting salutation. He was a nice 
observer of womanly actions, and his farewell gesture 
seemed to say, " Although barefaced, you are respecta- 
ble ;" which, if he really meant it, was a great deal for 
him to allow. Our luggage was now transferred on board 
the smaller steamer, which was to sail at six P. M. for 
the Pirasus, and the neophyte and myself soon found 
ourselves under the shelter of Mr. Evangelides' roof, 
where his Greek wife made us cordially welcome. 

Syra. 

Mr. Evangelides was one of a number of youths 
brought to the United States, after the war of Greek in- 
dependence, for aid and education. The latter was the 
chief endowment with which his adopted country re- 
turned him to his native land. The value of this gift 
he was soon to realize, though not without previous 
hardships and pivations. After a year or two of trial, he 
commenced a school in Syra. This school was soon filled 



SYR A. 165 

with pupils, and many intelligent and successful Greeks 
of the present day are among his old scholars. Besides 
methods of education, he brought from America a novel 
idea — that of the value of real estate. Looking about 
Syra, and becoming convinced of its inevitable growth, 
he invested the surplus of his earnings in tracts of land 
in the immediate neighborhood of the then small town, 
to the utter mystification of his neighbors. That one 
should invest in jewels, arms, a house, or a vineyard, 
would have seemed to them natural enough ; but what 
any man should want of mere land scarcely fit for till- 
age, was beyond their comprehension. The expected 
growth was not slow in coming. Mr. Evangelides soon 
began to realize handsomely, as we should say, from his 
investment, and is now esteemed a man of wealth. His 
neighbors thereafter named him " the Greek Yankee ; " 
and I must say that he seems to hold equally to the two 
belongings, in spite of the Scripture caution. 

Under the escort of my old friend, I went out to see 
the town, and to make acquaintance with the most emi- 
nent of the inhabitants, the custom of the country mak- 
ing the duty of the first call incumbent upon the person 
newly arrived. 

Unfurling a large umbrella, and trembling with the 
fear of sun-stroke, I proceeded to climb the steep and 
narrow streets of the town. We first incommode with 
our presence the governor of the Cyclades, a patriotic 
Greek, who speaks good English and good sense. We 
talk of Cretan affairs ; he is not sanguine as to the effi- 
cient intervention of the European powers. 

We next call upon the archbishop, at whose house we 



1 66 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

are received by a black servant in Frank dress, speaking 
good French. Presently the prelate appeared — a tall, 
gentlemanly person in a rich costume, one feature of 
which was a medallion, brilliant with precious stones 
of various colors. His reverence had made his studies 
in Germany, and spoke the language of that country 
quite fluently. Tholuck had been his especial professor, 
but he had also known Bauer ; and he took some pains 
to assure me that the latter was not an irreligious man, 
in spite of the hardihood of his criticism. He deplored 
the absence of a state religion in America. I told him 
that the progress of religion in our country seemed to 
establish the fact that society attains the best religious 
culture through the greatest religious liberty. He re- 
plied that the members should all be united under one 
head. " Yes," said I, "but the Head is invisible ;" and 
he repeated after me, " Indeed, the Head is invisible." 
I will here remark that nothing could have been more 
refreshing to the New England mind than this immedi- 
ate introduction to the theological opinions of the East. 
Other refreshment, however, was in store for me — 
the sweetmeats and water which form the somewhat 
symbolical staple of Greek hospitality. Of these I 
partook in the orthodox manner. One dish only is 
brought in, but many spoons, one of which each guest 
dips into the gliko (sweet), and, having partaken, drops 
the spoon into the glass of fresh water which always 
follows. Turkish coffee was afterwards served in small 
cups without spoons. And now, not knowing what 
sermons or other duties my presence might impede, I 
took leave, much gratified by the interview. 



SYRA. 167 

We passed from hence to the house of the Austrian 
consul, Dr. Hahn, a writer of scientific travels, and a 
student of antiquities. He had not long before visited 
the Island of Santorin, whose recently-awakened vol- 
cano interests the world of science. He told me of a 
house newly excavated in this region, containing tools 
and implements as old, at least, as those of the Lacus- 
trine period, and, in his opinion, somewhat older. This 
house had been deeply buried in ashes by an ancient 
eruption, so violent as to have eviscerated the volcano 
of that time, which subsequently collapsed. The depth 
of ashes he stated as considerably greater than that 
found in any part of the Pompeian excavation, being 
at least thirty yards. Hewn stones were found here, 
but no metal implements, nor traces of any. Caucasian 
skulls were also found, and pottery of a finer descrip- 
tion than that belonging to the Lacustrine period. He 
gave me a model of a small pitcher discovered among 
the ruins, of which the nose was shaped like the beak 
of a bird, with a further imitation of the eye on either 
side. Another small vessel was ornamented by the 
model of a human breast, to denote plenty. He had 
also plaster casts of skulls, arm and jaw bones, and 
flint saws, upon which he descanted with great vivacity. 

Dr. Harm's courteous and charming manners caused 
me to remember him as one of the many Austrians 
whose amiable qualities make us doubly regret the onus 
which the untimely policy of their government throws 
upon them. 

These visits at end, Mr. Evangelides took me home 
to dinner, where the best Greek dishes were enhanced 



1 68 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

by Samian wine. We had scarcely dined when the 
archbishop, followed by an attendant priest, came to 
return our visit. The Greeks present all kissed his 
hand, and gliko and coffee were speedily offered. We 
resumed our conversation of the morning, and the celi- 
bacy of the clerical hierarchy came next in order in our 
discussion. The father was in something of a strait 
between the Christian dignification of marriage and its 
ascetic depreciation. The arrival of other visitors forced 
us to part, with this interesting point still unsettled. We 
next visited the wife of the American vice-consul — Mr. 
Saponzaki — a handsome person, who received us with 
great cordiality. After a brief sojourn, we walked 
down to the landing, visiting the foundery, where they 
were making brass cannon, and the Acadi, the smart 
little steamer given by the Greeks of London to the 
Cretan cause. She ran our blockade in the late war, 
but is now engaged in a more honest service, for she 
runs the Turkish blockade, and carries the means of 
subsistence to the Cretans. Here we v met Mr. DeKay, 
a youthful Philcandiote of our own country. He had 
already made himself familiar with the state of things 
in Candia, and, like the blockade-runner, was serving 
in his second war, with the difference that his former 
record showed him to have been always on the side of 
Christian loyalty. 

Finally, amid thanks and farewells, a small boat took 
us alongside of the Austrian steamer, which carried us 
comfortably, and by magnificent moonlight, to the 
Piraeus. 



piraeus athens. 169 

Piraeus ■ — Athens. 

We were still soundly asleep when the earner iere 
knocked at the door of our cabin, crying, " Signora, 
here we are at the Piraeus." The hour was four of the 
morning, but we were now come to the regions in which 
men use the two ends of the day, and throw away the 
middle. We, therefore, seized the end offered to us, 
and as briefly as possible made our way on deck, where 
we found a commissionaire from the Hotel des Etran- 
gers, at Athens. We had expected to meet here the 
chief of our party, who had gone before us to Athens. 
The commissionaire, however, brought us a note, telling 
of an accident whose fatigues did not allow him to wait 
upon us in person. We were soon in the small boat, 
and soon after in the carriage, intent upon reaching 
Athens. Pireo, as they call the classic port, is quite a 
bustling place, the harbor gay with shipping and flags 
of all nations. The drive to the Capitol occupies three 
quarters of an hour. The half-way point of the dis- 
tance is marked by two rival khans, at one 6f which the 
driver of a public vehicle always stops to water his 
horses and light his cigar. Here a plate of lokumia, 
a sweetmeat something like fig-paste, and glasses of 
fresh water, were brought out and offered to us. Soon 
we came in sight of the Acropolis, not without an 
indescribable puzzle at beholding, in commonplace 
existence, one of those dreams whose mystical beauty 
we never expect to realize, and fear to dissipate. Now 
we drive through many streets and squares, and finally 



170 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

stop at a hotel in front of one of the prettiest of the 
latter, from whose door our chief issues to welcome us. 
With him is the elder neophyte, who has so far shared 
his wanderings, and latterly the near danger of ship- 
wreck. Under her guidance we walk out, after break- 
fast, to look at the shops in Hermes Street, but the 
glaring sun soon drives us back to our quarters. We 
take the midday nap, dine, and at sunset drive to the 
Acropolis. On our way thither, we pass the remain- 
ing columns of the Temple of Jupiter Olympius, a 
Roman-Greek structure, the work of Adrian. These 
columns, sixteen in number, stand on a level area of 
some extent. One of them, overthrown by an earth- 
quake, lies in ruins, its separate segments suggesting the 
image of gigantic vertebras. The spine is indeed a 
column, but it has the advantage of being flexible, and 
the method and principle of its unity are not imitable by 
human architects. At the Acropolis a wooden gate 
opens for our admission, and a man in half-military 
costume follows our steps. 

We visit first the Propylea, or five gates, then the 
Parthenon. Our guide points out the beauty of its 
Doric columns, the perfection of their execution —the 
two uniting faces of each of their pieces being polished, 
so as to allow of their entire union. Here stood the 
great statue of Minerva Medica ; here, the table for 
sacrifice. Here are the ways on which the ponderous 
doors opened and shut. And Pericles caused it to be 
built ; and this, his marble utterance, is now a lame 
sentence, with half its sense left out. In this corner is 



PIRAEUS ATHENS. 1 7 1 

the high Venetian tower, a solid relic, modern beside 
that which it guards. And worse than any wrong de- 
nouement of a novel is the intelligence here given you 
that the Parthenon stood entire not two hundred years 
ago, and that the explosion of a powder magazine, con- 
nected with this Venetian fortification, shattered its 
matchless beauty. 

Here is the Temple of Victory. Within are the 
bas-reliefs of the Victories arriving in the hurry of their 
glorious errands. Something so they tumbled in upon us 
when Sherman conquered the Carolinas, and Sheridan 
the valley of the Shenandoah, when Lee surrendered, 
and the glad president went to Richmond. One of these 
Victories is untying her sandal, in token of her perma- 
nent abiding. Yet all of them have trooped away long 
since, scared by the hideous havoc of barbarians. And 
the bas-reliefs, their marble shadows, have all been 
battered and mutilated into the saddest mockery of their 
original tradition. The statue of Wingless Victory that 
stood in the little temple, has long been absent and 
unaccounted for. But the only Victor}^ that the Parthe- 
non now can seize or desire is this very Wingless 
Victory, the triumph of a power that retreats not — the 
power of Truth. 

I give heed to all that is told me in a dreamy and 
desolate manner. It is true, no doubt — this was, 
and this, and this ; but what I see is none the less 
emptiness — the broken eggshell of a civilization which 
Time has hatched and devoured. And this incapacity 
to reconstruct the past goes with me through most of 



172 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

my days in Athens. The city is so modern, and its 
circle so small ! The trumpeters who shriek around 
the Theseum in the morning, the cafe keeper who taxes 
you for a chair beneath the shadow of the Olympian 
columns, the custode who hangs about to see that you 
do not break the broken marbles further, or carry off 
their piteous fragments, all of these are significant of 
modern Greece ; but the ruins have nothing to do with it. 

Poor as these relics are in comparison with what one 
would wish them to be, they are still priceless. This 
Greek marble is the noblest in descent ; it needs no eulo- 
gy. These forms have given the model for a hundred 
familiar and commonplace works, which caught a little 
gleam of their glory, squaring to shapeliness some town- 
house of the west, or southern bank or church. So 
well do we know them in the prose of modern design, 
that we are startled at seeing them transfigured in the 
poetry of their own conception. Poor old age ! poor 
columns I 

And poor Greece, plundered by Roman, Christian, 
and Mussulman. Hers were the lovely statues that 
grace the halls of the Vatican — at least the loveliest 
of them. And. Rome shows to this day two colossal 
groups, of which one bears the inscription, u Opus Prax- 
itelce" the other that of " Opus Phidice" And Naples 
has a Greek treasure or two, one thinks, besides her 
wealth of sculptural gems, of which the best are of 
Greek workmanship. And in England those bas-reliefs 
which are the treasure of art students and the wonder 
of the world, were pulled from the pediment of the 



PIRAEUS — ATHENS. 1 73 

Parthenon, like the pearly teeth from a fair mouth, the 
mournful gaps remaining open in the sight of the unfor- 
giving world. " Thou art old and decrepit," said Eng- 
land. " I am still in strength and in vigor. All else 
has gone, as well thy dower as thy earnings. Thou 
hast but these left. I want them ; so give them me." 

Royal Munich also had his share. The relict of Lola 
Montes did to the temple at Egina what Lord Elgin 
did to the Parthenon, inflicting worse damage upon its 
architecture. At the time, the unsettled state of the coun- 
try, and the desire to preserve things so costly and beau- 
tiful, may be accepted as excuses for such acts. But 
when Greece shall have a museum fit to preserve the 
marbles now huddled in the Theseum, or left exposed on 
the highways, then she may demand back the Elgin 
and Bavarian marbles. She will then deserve to receive 
them again. Nor could she, methinks, do better than 
devote to this noble purpose some of the superfluous ex- 
tent of Otho's monstrous palace, whose emptiness afflicts 
the visitor with sad waste of room and of good material. 
Making all allowance for the removal of the Penates of 
its late occupants, it is still obvious that these two lux- 
urious wrens occupied but a small portion of this eagle's 
nest. A fine gallery could as easily be spared from its 
endless apartments as are the public galleries from the 
Vatican. 

Nor should this new kingling and his Russian bride 
be encouraged to people such an extent of masonry with 
smart aid-de-camps, lying diplomats, and plundering 
stewards and da?nes d'honneur. For pity's sake, let 



1 74 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

the poor kingdom have a modest representative, who 
shall follow the spirit of modern reform, and administer 
the people's revenues with clean hands. A sculpture 
gallery, therefore, in the palace by all means, open to the 
public, as are the galleries of Italian palaces. And 
these marbles in the Theseum and elsewhere — fie upon 
them ! Not only are they so crowded that one cannot 
see them, but so dirty that one cannot discern their fea- 
tures. " Are they marble?" one asks, for a thick coat- 
ing of the sand and dust in which they were embodied 
for ages still envelops them, and can only be removed 
by careful artistic intervention. 

A little money, please, king and Parliament, for these 
unhappy ones. The gift would repay itself in the end, 
for a respectable collection of authentic Greek remains 
on the very soil in which they were found would bring 
here many of the wide-ranging students of art and an- 
tiquity. A little money, please, for good investment is 
good economy. Moreover, despite the velvet flatteries 
and smiling treasons of diplomacy, the present govern- 
ment of Greece is, as every government should be, on 
good behavior before the people. Wonderfully clever, 
enterprising, and liberal have the French people made 
the author of the Life of Julius Cassar. Wonderfully 
reformative did the radicals of twenty years since make 
the pope. And the Greek nation, taken in the large, 
may prove to have some common sense to impart to its 
symbolical head, of whom we can only hope that the 
something rotten in the state of Denmark may not have 
been taken from it to corrupt the state of Greece. 



EXPEDITIONS — NAUPLIA. 1 75 

Expeditions — Nauplia. 

A few days of midsummer passed in Athens make 
welcome any summons that calls one out of it. Majes- 
tic as the past is, one likes to have its grim skeleton a 
little cushioned over by the aesthetic of the present, and, 
at the present season, this is not to be had, even in its 
poorest and cheapest forms. The heat, moreover, though 
tempered by healthful breezes, is yet of a kind and de- 
gree to tell heavily upon a northern constitution. To 
take exercise of any kind, between ten A. M. and six 
P. M., is uncomfortable and far from safe. How de- 
lightful, therefore, to pack one's little budget, and start 
upon a cruise ! 

For the government, we must confess, is very hospi- 
table to us. Our chief veteran goes about to distribute 
clothing to the Cretan refugees, who, in advanced stages 
of nakedness, congregate in Egina, Syra, Argos, and 
other places, as well as in Athens. And he asks the 
government, and the government lends its steamer, the 
Parados, for the philanthropic voyage. So we drive 
down to the Pireo and embark, and are on our way. A 
pleasant little Athenian lady accompanies us, together 
with her father, a Cretan by birth,, and a man who has 
been much in the service of the government. Our trav- 
elling library for this occasion is reduced to a copy of 
Macchiavelli's Principe, a volume of Muir's Greece, and 
a Greek phrase-book on Ollendorff's principle. We 
have also some worsted work ; but one of us, the writer 
of these notes, has added to these another occupation, 
another interest. 



176 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

Take note that the beds of the hotel at Athens are 
defended by mosquito-nets, which show, here and there, 
the marks of age. Take note that we close these net- 
tings the first night a little carelessly, remembering 
Cuba, and expecting nothing worse. Take note that 
we neither wear gloves at night, nor bandage our arms 
and wrists, and then take note of what follows. 

A fiery stinging of needle points in every accessible part 
of your body. Each new bite is like a new star of tor- 
ment in the milky way of your corporeal repose. These 
creatures warn not, like the honest American mosquito, 
rattlesnake, or bore, of their intended descent upon you. 
In comparison with their silent impudence, the familiar 
humming of our Yankee torments becomes an apolo- 
getic murmur, significant of, " We are very sorry indeed, 
but we cannot well do otherwise." This is the lan- 
guage of the dun — the Greek insect has the quiet of 
the thief. 

So much for the action ; now for the result. You 
awake uncomfortably, and, provoked here and there, be- 
gin to retort upon your skin a little. Never was more 
salient illustration of the doctrine of the forgiveness of 
injuries. Let by-gones be by-gones ; suffer the bites to 
rest. Ah ! the warning comes too late. The fatal pro- 
cess has begun. At every touch you get worse, but 
cannot stop. You now realize what a good gift your 
Anglo-Saxon skin was, and so clean, and so com- 
fortable ! and it cost you so little ! But just because it 
was so good, these foreign vermin insisted on sharing it 
with you. And you exemplify in little the fate of Italy 



EXPEDITIONS — NAUPLIA. 1 77 

and of Greece, which have been feasted on for ages, and 
cursed by the absolute mosquito for not continuing in 
perpetuity to yield their life-blood without remonstrance. 
This for the moral aspect of the case. The material 
aspect is that of intolerable pain and itching, accompa- 
nying a distinct suppuration of every spot punctured 
by the insect. For some days and nights the principal 
occupation of the writer of these notes was to tear the 
unhappy hands and arms that aid in their production. 
A remedy is casually mentioned — vinegar. Bandages 
dipped in this fluid, and closely wrapped around the 
suffering members, give instant relief, but have to be 
frequently renewed, the fever of the skin rapidly drying 
them. The sufferings of Job were now understood, and 
his eminent but impossible virtue appreciated. Even 
he, however, had recourse to a potsherd. Never were 
my human sympathies so called out towards the afflicted 
Scotch nation ! Well, let this subject rest. Recovery is 
now an established fact. From the height of experience 
we can look down upon future sufferers and say, " This, 
too, shall pass away." 

But now, to return to the deck of the Parados. 
Scenery, worsted work, the Principe, and a little conver- 
sation caused the time to pass very agreeably. We took 
also the Ollendorff book, and made a short trial of its 
lumbering machinery. And we had dejeuner on board, 
and dinner. And Georgi, the cameriere, had the features 
of Edwin Booth — the strong eyes, the less forcible 
mouth, something even of the general expression. At 
about 7.30 P. M., we made the harbor of Nauplia, oth- 
12 



178 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

erwise called Napoli cle Romania. The harbor being 
shallow, the steamer anchored at some distance from the 
land, whither its boats conveyed us. On the quay stood 
a crowd of people, waiting to see us. They had dis- 
cerned the steamer afar, and had nocked together from 
mere curiosity. Something in the landing made me 
think of that portion of the quay at Naples which lies 
before the Hotel de Russie. Much of the present town 
was built by the Turks. The streets are narrow and 
irregular, and many of the houses have balconies. One 
of these streets is nearly blocked by a crowd. We in- 
quire, and learn that the head of a brigand has just been 
brought in. For the brigands, long tolerated in some 
regions by usage and indolence, have now set foot in a 
region in which they will not be endured. The Pelo- 
ponnesus will not have them, and the peasants, who 
elsewhere aid the brigands, here aid the gens d'armes. 
Upon the head of their leader, Kitzos, a large price has 
been set. But the head which causes the commotion of 
this evening is not that of Kitzos. Getting through the 
crowd at length, we come upon a pretty square, sur- 
rounded by houses, and planted with pepper-trees. 

Here is the house of the prefect, at whose door we 
knock, imploring shelter. Our Cretan friend, M. Anto- 
niades, is well known to the prefect ; hence the daring of 
this summons. The prefecture receives us. The prefect 
— a vivacious little man, with blue eyes and light hair — 
capers about in great excitement. He has to do with 
the war against the brigands, and joy at the bringing 
in of the head before mentioned nearly causes him to 



EXPEDITIONS — NAUPLIA. 1 79 

lose his own. His large salon is thronged with visit- 
ors, who come partly to talk over these matters, partly 
to see the strangers. We, the ladies, meanwhile take 
refuge on a roomy balcony, where we have chairs, and 
where gliko and cold water are offered to us. I make 
my usual piteous request for vinegar, and renew my 
bandages, while the others enjoy cool air and starlight. 
The prefect goes off to supper at nine, having first sig- 
nified to us that his wife is occupied with a baby two 
days old, and cannot wait upon us ; that his house is 
at our disposal, and that he will send out among his 
neighbors and obtain all that we may require. One 
of his visitors — M. Zampacopolus, a major of cavalry 
— promises to wait upon us at five in the morning, to 
conduct us up the steep ascent of the fortress Palamides. 
By ten o'clock the mattresses are brought. They are 
spread in a row on the floor, and we weary women, 
four in number, lie down and sleep as only weary peo- 
ple can. 

The summons that arouses us at five the next morn- 
ing does not awaken enthusiasm. We struggle up, 
however, and get each a minimum of the limited basin 
and towel privilege. Descending, we find Major Zam- 
pacopolus in full uniform, and are admonished by him 
for being so late. He came for us at four o'clock ; 
but the chief veteran would not suffer us to be disturbed. 
The sun had already risen, and the ascent looked most 
formidable. Invoking the courage of our ancestors, we 
unfolded the umbrellas and began. We had six hun- 
dred steps to climb, and steep ones at that. The labor 



I So FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

caused such perspiration that at any turn commanding 
the breeze we were forced to shield ourselves, the sud- 
den evaporation being attended with great danger. The 
ascent is everywhere guarded by loopholes for musketry, 
and could not be carried by any party of human assail- 
ants. There is, however, another route of access to 
the fortress, which may be pursued on horseback. It 
was by this latter path that the Greeks ascended during 
the war of independence. They took the fortress from 
the Turks, but were admitted within the gates by treach- 
ery. After weary efforts and pauses, we reach the plane 
of the main structure, which consists of a number of 
independent bastions in strong positions, commanding 
each other and the pass. It was built by the Venetians, 
and vouches for their skill and thoroughness in military 
architecture. The officers receive us, and accommo- 
date us in an airy bedroom, whose draughts of air w r e 
avoid, being en nage with perspiration. We cool by 
degrees, and enjoy the balcony. A pot of basil is 
offered us for fragrance, at which we smell with little 
pleasure. We are then told the legend of the discovery 
of the true cross beneath a growth of this plant, which 
circumstance consecrates it among Eastern traditions 
forever. In the mean time a functionary enters, and 
furtively carries away a small box. Not very long 
afterwards its contents are returned in the shape of a 
cup of delicious coffee for each of us, with a piece of 
the ration bread of the garrison. " This bread," said 
the major, " is made with the hands, as we know, for 
it is made by the soldiers ; but the bread you commonly 



NAUPLIA. l8l 

eat in Greece is made with the feet." Here was indeed 
a heightening of present enjoyment by a somewhat un- 
welcome disparagement of unavoidable past and future 
experiences. We now proceeded to visit the bastions 
in detail. Each of them has its own name. One is 
called Miltiades. The most formidable one is called 
Satan. The view from the highest parapet is very 
grand. We go about, wondering at the grim walls and 
the manifold openings for musketry. They show us 
an enormous cistern for rain water. The place con- 
tains several of these, and is thus capable of standing 
a very long siege. We pass an enclosure in w T hich are 
detained " the military prisoners," whoever they may 
be. As a bonne bouche we are promised a sight of the 
criminals condemned to death. These are kept in the 
strongest recess of the fortress. They lead us to it, and 
bid us look down into a court below, in which we per- 
ceive twenty-five or more unfortunates refreshing them- 
selves in the open air. At the door and grated window 
of the prison behind them appear the faces of others. 
Stationed on a narrow bridge above stand the military 
guard, whose muskets command the court. These men 
have all been convicted of crimes of violence against 
the person. Sentence has been passed upon them, and 
its execution follows the convenience and pleasure of 
the officers of the law. At short intervals a little group 
of them is led out to endure the last penalty. u Do not 
pity them, madam," said the major ; u they have all 
done deeds worthy of death." But how not to pity 
them, when they and we are made of the same fragile 



1 82 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

human stuff, that corrupts so easily to crime, and is 
always redeemable, if society would only afford the 
costly process of redemption. A sad listlessness hung 
over the melancholy group. Some of them were busied 
in preparing breakfast — coffee, probably. Most of 
them sat or stood quite idly, with the terrible guns 
bristling above them. They looked up in our women's 
faces as if they sought there something, some compas- 
sionate glance that might recall mother or sweetheart 
— if such people have them. One old brigand lifted 
his voice, and petitioned the officers that his single daily 
hour of fresh air might be extended to two hours, plead- 
ing the pain he suffered in his eyes. This was granted. 
Our guides directed our attention to a man of elastic 
figure and marked face — tall, athletic, and blond. All 
that they could tell us was, that there seemed to be 
something remarkable about this man, as, indeed, his 
appearance indicated. In his face, more than in those 
of the others, we observed the blank that Hope leaves 
when her light is extinguished. All days, all things, 
were alike to him now ; the dark, close prison behind, 
before him only the day when one in command shall 
say, " This is thy last ! " If the priest shall then have 
any hidden comfort to bestow upon him ! Shade of 
Jesus, we will hope so ! 

These men, however, go to death with bold defiance, 
singing and laughing. A rude sympathy and admira- 
tion from the multitude gives them the last thrill of 
pleasure. As I looked at them, I was struck by a feel- 
ing of their helplessness. What is there in the world 



ARGOS. 183 

so helpless as a disarmed criminal? No inner armor 
has he to beat back the rude visiting of society ; no 
secure soul-citadel, where scorn and anger cannot reach 
him. He has thrown away the jewel of his manhood ; 
human law crushes its empty case. But the final Pos- 
sessor and Creditor is unseen. 

In our wanderings we catch glimpses of a pretty 
little garden, disposed in terraces, and planted with 
flowers, vegetables, and vines. This garden recalls to 
memory a gentle-hearted commandant who planted it, 
loving flowers, and therefore not hating men. It is a 
little gone to decay since he left it, but its presence here 
is a welcome and useful boon. After visiting its beds 
and borders, we take leave of the hospitable officers, 
and by rapid and easy descent return to the prefecture, 
where the breakfast-table is set, and where a large tea- 
pot and heaped dish of rice attest the hospitable efforts 
of our host. 

I have only forgotten to say that on one of the ram- 
parts of the fortress they showed us two old Venetian 
cannon, both of which served in the last revolution ; 
and further, that, in returning, passing through the old 
gate of the town, we saw sculptured in stone the winged 
lion of St. Mark, the valorous device of Venice. 

Argos. 

We found the prefect at the very maximum of excite- 
ment. Another telegram concerning the brigands, and 
yet another. Kitzos is closely beleaguered by peasants 
and gens-d'armes ; he cannot get away. Another head 



184 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

will be brought in, and the country will be free of its 
scourge. With much jumping up and declaiming, our 
entertainer shared the morning meal with us. We feed 
the discontented servant, whose views of life appeared 
to be dismal, kissed the sweet-eyed children of the fam- 
ily, and, as a party, leaped into two carriages, leaving 
the prefect intent upon welcoming with grim hospitality 
the prospective heads of bandits, which did not hinder 
him from shaking hands with us, cordially inviting us 
to return to the shelter of his roof. But shelter was not 
for us under any roof, save the ambulating cover of the 
carriage. We were now en route for Argos. Our 
drivers were clothed alike, in well-worn bags of blue 
homespun, peaked babouches without stockings, and 
handkerchiefs bound about the head. The thermom- 
eter was ranging in the upper regions. Dust and over- 
whelming heat assail us. Stopping to water the well- 
flogged horses, we take refuge for a few minutes in a 
shady garden, planted with flowers, vines, and merciful 
trees with flat, not pointed, foliage. We sit around a 
tiny fountain, at whose small spouts the smaller bees 
refresh themselves on the wing. This sojourn is brief; 
our next halt is on the burning, dusty high-road, where 
the chief veteran says, " Tiryns," and leads a very for- 
lorn hope across thorny fields and stony ditches to a 
Cyclopean ruin — a side and angle of old wall, built 
after the manner so denominated, and so solidly that it 
outlasts at least three thousand years. We stand and 
consider this grim old remnant as long and as atten- 
tively as the fear of sun-stroke will permit. The 



ARGOS. 185 

veteran, however, leads us farther in pursuit of a cave 
in which, during the war of Greek independence, he 
was wont to seek shelter from sun and rain. This cave 
is probably one of the galleries of the ancient fortress ; 
for that the ruin was a fortress, they say w T ho know. 
It is perhaps twenty yards in length, and three in its 
greatest height ; for it has a pointed roof, laboriously 
formed by the fitting and approximation of the two 
sides, no arch being then invented. The stones that 
form this roof are very large, rather broken than hewn, 
and are laid together with great care. Some of them 
are of very hard material. From these most venerable 
relics we creep back, under the deadly fire of the sun, to 
the carriage. The remainder of our drive leads across 
the plain of Argos, the "courser feeding," as Homer 
denominates it. We come in sight of its lofty Acrop- 
olis long before we reach the town, through whose 
narrow streets we drive, and after a brief pause at the 
prefecture, find rest and shelter in a private house. 

The proprietors of this house ranked among the best 
people of the place — oi megaloi, as the multitude naively 
denominate them. They received us in a large salon 
without carpets, darkened by green blinds, and furnished 
with a mahogany centre table and chairs, all of a Euro- 
pean pattern, with a cushioned divan occupying one 
corner of the room, according to the favorite fashion of 
these parts. The lady of the house wore a dress of 
ordinary figured jacconet, open at the neck, and a red 
fez, around which her own hair was bound in a braid. 
Her husband appeared in full Palicari dress, with an 



1 86 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

inapproachable fustanella, and handsome jacket and 
leggings. They welcomed us with great cordiality, 
and bestirred themselves to minister to our necessities. 
Gliko and water were immediately brought us, together 
with the vinegar for my fevered hands. We next 
begged for mattresses, which were brought and spread 
on the floor of a bedroom adjoining. The four femi- 
nines, as usual, dropped down in a row. In the draw- 
ing-room mattresses were arranged for the gentlemen. 
We rested from 12.30 until 2 P. M., the hour ap- 
pointed for the distribution of clothing to the destitute 
Cretans, of whom there is a large settlement at Argos. 
For I may as well mention here that our pursuit of 
pleasures and antiquities in the terms of this expedition 
was entirely secondary to the plans of our veteran for 
clothing the nakedness of these poor exiles. In his 
energetic company we now walked to a large build- 
ing with court enclosed — a former convent, in whose 
corridors our eager customers, restrained by one or two 
officials, were in waiting. We were ushered into a well- 
sized room, in which lay heaps of cotton under-clothing, 
and of calico dresses, most of them in the shape of 
sacks and skirts. These were the contents of one or 
two boxes recently arrived from Boston. Some of them 
were recognized as having connection with a hive of 
busy bees who used to gather weekly in our own New 
England parlor. And what stress there was ! and 
what hurrying ! And how the little maidens took off 
their feathery bonnets and dainty gloves, wielding the 
heavy implements of cutting, and eagerly adjusting the 



ARGOS. 187 

arms and legs, the gores and gathers ! With patient 
pride the mother trotted off to the bakery, that a few 
buns might sustain these strenuous little cutters and 
sewers, whose tongues, however active over the chari- 
table work, talked, we may be sure, no empty nonsense 
nor unkind gossip. For charity begins indeed at home, 
in the heart, and, descending to the ringers, rules also the 
rebellious member whose mischief is often done before 
it is meditated. At the sight of these well-made gar- 
ments a little swelling of the heart seized us, with the 
love and pride of remembrance so dear. But sooner 
than we could turn from it to set about our business, the 
Cretans were in presence. 

Here they come, called in order from a list, with 
names nine syllables long, mostly ending in fioulos, a 
term signifying descent, like the Russian " witzch." 
Here they come, the shapely maiden, the sturdy matron, 
the gray-haired grandmother, with little ones of all 
small sizes and ages. Many of the women carried 
infants at the breast ; many were expectant of mater- 
nity. Not a few of them were followed by groups of 
boys and girls. Most of them were ill-clothed ; many 
of them appeared extremely destitute of attire. A 
strong, marked race of people, with powerful eyes, 
fine black hair, healthy complexions, and symmetrical 
figures. They bear traces of suffering. Some of the 
infants have pined ; but most of them promise to do 
well. Each mother cherishes and shows her little beg- 
gar in the approved way. The children are usually 
robust, although showing in their appearance the 



1 88 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

very limited resources of their parents. Some of the 
women have tolerable gowns ; to these we give only 
under-clothing. Others have but the rag of a gown — 
a few stripes of stuff over their coarse chemises. These 
we make haste to cover with the beneficent growth of 
New England factories. They are admitted in groups 
of three or four at a time. As many of us fly to the heaps 
of clothing, and hastily measure them by the length 
and breadth of the individual. A papa, or priest, 
keeps order among them. He wears his black hair 
uncut, a narrow robe much patched, and holds in his 
hand a rosary of beads, which he fingers mechanically. 
We work at this distribution for a couple of hours, and 
return to the house to take some necessary refreshment. 
We find a dinner-table set for us in one of the sleeping- 
rooms, and are cordially invited to partake of fish cooked 
in oil, bread, acrid cheese, cucumbers, olives, and cherries, 
together with wine which our Greek companions praised 
as highly stomachic, but which to us seemed at once bit- 
ter, sour, and insipid — *a w T ine without either sugar or 
sparkle, dull as a drug, sufficient of itself to overthrow 
the whole Bacchic dispensation. Having enjoyed the 
repast, we returned to the Cretan settlement, and contin- 
ued the distribution of the clothing until all were provided. 
The dresses did not quite hold out, but sufficed to sup- 
ply the most needy, and, in fact, the greater number. 
Of the under-clothes we carried back a portion, having 
given to every one. To an old papa (priest) who came, 
looking ill and disconsolate, I sent two shirts and a good 
dark woollen jacket. Among all of these, only one 



ARGOS. 189 

discontented old lady demurred at the gift bestowed. 
She wanted a gown, but there was none ; so that she 
was forced to content herself, much against her will, with 
some under-clothing. The garments supplied, of which 
many were sent by the Boston Sewing Circle, under the 
superintendence of Miss Abby W. May, proved to be 
very suitable in pattern and in quality. The good taste 
of their assortment gave them an air of superiority over 
the usual dress of the poor in this and other countries 
of the old world. The proportion of children's cloth- 
ing was insufficient ; but who could have foreseen that the 
Cretans would have had such large families of such little 
children? Finally, we rejoiced in the philanthropic 
energy of our countrywomen, and in the good appear- 
ance of our domestic manufactures. As we descended 
the steps, we met with some of the children, already 
arrayed in their little clean shirts, and strutting about with 
the inspiration of fresh clothing, long unfelt by them. 

We now went on foot to visit a fine amphitheatre in 
the neighborhood of the town, called by the ignorant 
44 the tomb of Helen." The seats are hewn out of 
the solid rock, and occupy the whole ascent of a lofty 
hill-side. From the ground to the middle row they 
were faced with fine white marble. The remainder con- 
sisted simply of the stone itself, without covering. The 
division first mentioned is in better condition than the 
second, the marble incasement having protected the 
softer stone against the action of the elements. In front 
are some remains which probably represent the stage 
and its background. The extent embraced is unusually 



I9O FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

large ; and as we sat in the chief seats and looked towards 
the proscenium, we wondered a little as to what man- 
ner of entertainment could be given to an assembly 
so vast. The ancient masks were indeed necessary 
to enable the distant portion of the audience to have 
any idea of the expression of countenance intended 
to be conveyed. But I should suppose that games 
of strength and agility, races, combats of wild beasts, 
would have been best suited to such an arena. To 
us it was sufficiently melancholy in its desertion and 
desecration — grass and thorny shrubs growing pro- 
fusely between its defaced stones, the heavy twilight 
forming the background, while the stars that enlivened 
the evening were real ones, not their human symbols. 
As we descended, however, from our half hour of 
contemplation, we received notice of the incursion of 
busy western life even into this charmed domain. In a 
field hard by, a threshing machine was winnowing the 
Argive grain, — a thing of wonder to the inhabitants, 
probably an object of suspicion, — the property of 
a rich land-owner. Beggars are rare in Greece ; but 
the Argos children followed us both to and from the 
amphitheatre with mendicant solicitations. They went 
thither under the plea of showing us the way, and pur- 
sued our return under that of being paid for the same. 
We endeavored to satisfy two or three of them ; but, the 
whole troop following and tormenting, one of our com- 
panions appealed in Greek to the parents, as we passed 
their thatched dwellings. These called off the little 
hounds with threats of the bastinado. We reached the 



ARGOS. 



I 9 I 



hospitable roof of our entertainers, first taking a lem- 
onade at a little booth in the dark street. The mattresses 
were spread, the sick hands bathed, and we lay down 
to rest as we could, an early start being before us. A 
variety of insects preyed upon us, and made not very 
unwelcome the dawning of the early hour that saw us 
roused and dressed. 

But here I have forgotten to make mention of a fact 
which had much to do with our immediate movements 
at this time. The evening of our sojourn in Argos saw 
an excitement much like that which blocked the street 
in Nauplia. The occasion was the same — the bringing 
home of a brigand's head ; but this the very head and 
front of all the brigands, Kitzos himself, upon whose 
head had been set a prize of several thousand drachmas. 
Our veteran with difficulty obtained a view of the same, 
and reported accordingly. The robber chief, the origi- 
nal of Edmond About's " Hadji Stauros," had been shot 
while sighting at his gun. He had fallen with one eye 
shut and one open, and in this form of feature his dissev- 
ered head remained. The soldier who was its fortunate 
captor carried it concealed in a bag, with its long elf- 
locks lying loose about it. He showed it with some un- 
willingness, fearing to have the prize wrested from him. 
It was, however, taken on board of our steamer, and 
carried to Athens, there to be identified and buried. 

All this imported to us that Mycenae, which we de- 
sired to visit, had for some time been considered unsafe 
on account of the presence of this very Kitzos and his 
band. But at this moment the band were closely besieged 



I92 FROM THE OAK TO^THE OLIVE. 

in the mountains. They wanted their Head, and so did 
Kitzos. We, in consequence, were fully able to visit the 
treasure of Atreus and the ruins of Mycenae without fear 
or risk from those acephalous enemies. Taking leave 
therefore of our friendly entertainers with many thanks, 
" polloi, polloi," we sprang again into the dusty car- 
riages, and the sunburnt youths in blue bagging drove us 
out upon the wide plain to a spot where we were de- 
sired to dismount and make our way over a thorny and 
flinty hill-side to the spot in question. Such walking, in 
all of Greece with which I became acquainted, is difficult 
and painful. It is scarcely possible to avoid treading on 
the closely-growing bushes of nettles. To come in con- 
tact with these is like putting one's foot on a cushion of 
needles whose sharp points should be uppermost. Where 
you shun these, the small, pointed stones present diffi- 
culty as great. Creeping up from the plain, crying out 
for assistance and sympathy, beneath a sun already 
burning, we came to the entrance of the cave to 
which they give the name of the tomb of Agamemnon. 
This is an opening in the hill-side. Its door has long 
been wanting, but the formidable door-posts still remain. 
Two heavily-built stone sides support a single, horizontal 
stone, twenty-seven feet in length, by perhaps eight in 
breadth, and about the same in thickness. The door obvi- 
ously swung open from the bottom ; the traces in the stone- 
work make this clear. The cave itself is hollowed out 
from the height and depth of the hill. It is lined with 
large stones, carefully fitted to each other, and is in the 
shape of a rounded cone, whose gradual diminution to 



• ARGOS. 193 

the top is very symmetrical. Here a small aperture, part- 
ly covered by a stone, admits the light. The perfection 
of the work in its kind is singular. From this outer 
chamber, an opening admits you to an inner cave, with- 
out light, in which they suppose the treasure to have 
been kept. This is much smaller than the first chamber, 
and, like it, is heavily lined with squared stone. A fire 
of dry brush enables us to distinguish so much ; but our 
observations are somewhat hurried, for the chill of these 
interterranean passages, acting upon the perspiration 
that bathes our limbs, suggests terrible fears of an un- 
timely end to be attained in some inflammatory and 
painful way. 

The outer structure, of which I have endeavored to 
"give some idea, is, however, indescribable, and the 
manner of its building scarcely comprehensible in these 
days. It suggests a time whose art must be as far re- 
moved from ours as its nature, and whose solid and sim- 
ple construction takes little heed of the passage of time. 

From the treasure of Atreus to the old citadel and 
gate of Mycenae, we pass, by a few painful steps, through 
thorns, stones, and dust. Here we sit and meditate, as 
well as we are able. Mycenae was in ruins in Homer's 
time. This gate and citadel go back at least to the time 
of Agamemnon. In one of the tragedies of Sophocles, 
Electra and Orestes meet before the gate of Mycenae, 
which we naturally suppose to have been this one. Its 
heavy stone masonry is surmounted by a curious sculp- 
ture, a bas-relief, representing two lions aspiring to a 
column that stands between them. The column is one 

13 



194 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

of the ancient symbols of Apollo, and is met with in 
some of the coins of the period. Agamemnon, Cassan- 
dra, Clytemnestra, — this trio of ghosts will serve to fill 
up for us the ancient gateway. Of the city nothing re- 
mains save the walls of the citadel, the space within 
being now piled up and grassed over by the action of time. 
At the present day, this citadel would be of little avail, 
being itself commanded by an adjacent hill, from which 
artillery would soon knock it into pieces. The walls 
just mentioned are solidly built of squared stone, laid 
together without mortar. The briefness of our time 
hurried us away before we had taken in half the signifi- 
cance of the spot. But so it was, and we turned with 
regret from a mere survey of objects that deserve much 
study. 

We were now to find our way back to Nauplia, but 
our fasting condition compelled us to pause for a mo- 
ment at a little khan, whose energetic mistress bestirred 
herself, with small materials, to make us comfortable. 
The morning shadow threw her window in the dark. 
We gathered around it, escaping for the moment the 
scorching heat of the sun. Near us a traveller on a 
donkey rested himself and his patient beast. The little 
woman had blue eyes and chestnut hair, bound with a 
handkerchief. She offered us cold fish, fried in oil, 
from her frying pan. Each of us took a fish by the 
tail, and devoured it as we could. Cucumbers were 
next handed to us. Of these we ate with salt, which the 
mistress strewed with her fingers on the wooden window- 
sill, together with a little pepper. Wine and water she 



ARGOS. 195 

dipped out for us, the one from a barrel, the other from 
an earthen jar. We had brought with us two large 
loaves of bread from Argos, which greatly assisted our 
pedestrian meal. The mistress rinsed the glasses with 
her own hands, not over clean. When we had eaten, 
she poured water over our hands, offering us a piece of 
soap and a towel. As we laughed, she laughed — we 
at her want of accommodation, she probably rejoicing 
in its sufficiency. We now returned to our carriages, 
and drove back to Nauplia, and through Nauplia down 
to the quay, where our boats were waiting for us. 
The remainder of the day we passed on board the 
steamer, reaching Porus at sunset, and going on shore 
to visit its fine arsenal, and narrow, dirty streets. In the 
arsenal, with other heroes, hangs the portrait of Boubou- 
lina, the famous woman who did such good naval service 
in the war of Greek independence. She commanded a 
ship, and her patriotic efforts were acknowledged by 
conferring on her the style and title of admiral. 

From the roof of the arsenal we enjoyed a beautiful 
view of the harbor. The town, as seen at a little dis- 
tance, has rather an inviting aspect. On a nearer view, 
it offers little to detain the traveller. We passed along 
the quay, looking at the groups of men, occupied with 
coffee or the "narghile, and soon regained our boat 
and steamer. The Greeks, we are told, give Porus a 
nickname which signifies u Pig-city," just as our Cincin- 
nati is sometimes called " Porkopolis." But the pigs in 
Porus are human. 



196 from the oak to the olive, 

Egina. 

We passed this night on board of the steamer, first 
supping luxuriously on deck, by the light of various 
lanterns fastened to the masts and bulwarks of the ship. 
The next morning saw us early awake and on foot to 
visit the Temple of Egina. The steamer came to anchor 
near the shore, and its boats soon conveyed us to land. 
We found on the shore two donkeys with pack-saddles, 
upon which two of us a'dventured to ascend the long 
and weary eminence. The temple is one of the most 
beautiful remains that we have seen. Its columns are 
of the noblest Doric structure. A number of them are 
still standing. His majesty of Munich and Montes 
robbed this temple, at some convenient moment of polit- 
ical confusion. He had a statue or so, perhaps several, 
and pulled down the architrave to obtain the bas-reliefs. 
Can we wonder that the Greeks do not punish brigand- 
age after such royal precedents in its favor. A fine lion 
in marble, twenty feet in length, was taken from this 
temple, either by this or a similar marauding. The lion 
was sawn in three pieces, that it might be more conven- 
iently conveyed by boat. But, being left over night, the 
peasants, in their rage, came and destroyed with their 
hammers what they were not able to protect. Here 
no diplomatic interference was possible, and the fact 
accomplished had to be accepted. 

This temple stands upon one of those breezy emi- 
nences so often selected by the Greeks for their places 
of worship and defence. It commands a wide view of 



EGINA. 197 

the sea and surrounding islands. On the opposite 
island of Salamis they show you Xerxes' Seat, the spot 
from which he contemplated the land he intended to 
enslave. Here the inexorable veteran conceded to gs a 
pleasant half hour, enabling us to survey the fine 
columns from various points of view, and to enjoy fully 
the beauty of their surroundings. Too soon, however, 
came the summons to descend. I again mounted the 
ass, but found my sideward and unsupported seat only 
maintainable by a gymnastic of the severest order. I 
yielded, therefore, this uneasy accommodation to one who 
might bestride the beast at his ease, being quite of the 
opinion of the Irishman, who, having been regaled with 
a ride in a bottomless sedan chair, said that, if it was not 
for the name of it, it was not much better than walking. 
In the same way I concluded that to be so badly carried 
by the ass was almost as bad as to carry him myself. 
We were soon on board and afloat again, and a few hours 
of sea travel, cherished for their coolness, brought us 
back to busy Piraeus, and thence to torrid Athens, 
where the great heats now begin. We had meditated a 
change of hotel at the time of our leaving Athens, and 
had contemplated a fine apartment at lower charges in 
an establishment opposite to our own. But our hitherto 
landlord was too much for us. He was down at Piraeus 
to receive us. The veteran yielded to his dangerous 
smile, and after a brief parley, implying a slight enlarge- 
ment in accommodations, we found ourselves bagged, 
and carried back to the Hotel des Etrangers. Here the 
servants cordially welcomed us, and made us much at 



I98 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

home. I regretted a certain beautiful view of the Acrop- 
olis commanded by the hotel opposite, but my view was 
outvoted ; and we gave ourselves up again to the im- 
prisonment of our small rooms, and to the darkness 
which is a necessary attendant upon summer life in 
Athens. And the gallant vision of the Parados, with its 
prow turned to the sea, and of lofty climbings, and monu- 
ment-seeking wanderings, faded from all but these notes, 
in which so much of it as may live is faithfully preserved. 

Days in Athens. 

" As idle as a painted ship 
Upon a painted ocean." 

O, there were many of them, each hotter and stiller 
than the other. All night we steamed and sleepily suf- 
fered beneath the mosquito-net. In the morning we 
arose betimes. We smiled to each other at breakfast, 
sighed at dinner, were dumb at tea-time. The whole 
long day held its flaming sword at our door. Sun-stroke 
and fever threatened us, should we cross the threshold. 
Visits were tame, and carriages expensive. For many 
days we sat still, doing little. This is what people call 
" being thrown upon one's own resources. " But to those 
accustomed to active and energetic life it is rather a be- 
ing thrown off from all that usually renders the passage 
of time pleasurable and useful. Even those dull days 
had, however, their distinctions. And, like a picture 
of our Indian summer, hazy, dreamy, and indistinct, so 
will I try to give a color picture of that unheroic time, 
in which we grew ungrateful for classic surroundings, 



DAYS IN ATHENS. 1 99 

forgetful of great names and histories, and sat and 
sewed, and said, " How long?" 

First, the little newsboys in the street who shriek, 
" Pende lefttal" calling the price of the paper for the 
paper itself. This music one may hear at any hour of 
the day when there is news from Crete, or w 7 hen a 
steamer has arrived from England for the Cretan ser- 
vice, or when anything takes place that can motive 
the publishing of an extra. The veteran catches one 
day one of these curious little insects. He is bare- 
foot, his hair is wild, his eyes are wilder. His extra is 
a single column, scarcely ten inches long ; and over this 
he dares to make as much noise as if it were an issue 
of the New York Herald, or the Tribune itself, with 
white-haired Greeley at its back. 

Next, the funerals, starting always with music, and 
bearing flat disks of gilded metal, something in the style 
of the Roman eagles. At one time a mortality pre- 
vailed among children, and the little coffins were carried 
through the street, with mournful sounds of wind instru- 
ments. We saw several military funerals. In these the 
deceased is carried by hand in a crimson velvet coffin, 
bound with silver lace. A glass cover shows him at 
full length. The velvet cover that corresponds with the 
coffin itself is carried before in an upright position. 
The hearse, drawn by four or five horses, follows. 
Priests walk along, and chant prayers in the intervals of 
the music, which on these occasions is supplied by a 
full band. A body of soldiers also makes part of the } 
pageant. Friends and relatives walk after, carrying the 



200 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

large cambric parasols so much in vogue here. As the 
cemetery is at some distance from the town, the hearse 
probably serves later for the transport of the body. But 
I from my window always saw it following in empty 
state. The friends all go to the church, where the 
prayers and orations occupy from one to two hours. 
The deceased is usually in full dress, and the counte- 
nance is often painted in white and red. The gilded 
symbols which are carried, and the wild tones of the 
wind instruments, give to those processions a somewhat 
barbaric aspect, as compared with the sober mourning of 
countries more familiar to ourselves. But there is nothing 
grim in the Greek funeral ; it seems rather a cheerful 
and friendly attendance, and compares favorably with 
the luxe of English burials, their ingenious ugliness and 
tasteless exaggeration of all that is gloomy and uncon- 
genial to life. 

Next, the out-of-door life and music. The first is, of 
course, limited by the severe heat of the day. Eight 
A. M. is a fashionable hour for being abroad. You will 
then find the market thronged. You will encounter 
seated groups, who take their coffee or smoke their cigar. 
Many carriages drive past, conveying people in easy cir- 
cumstances to Faleran, a small harbor three miles dis- 
tant from Athens, where the luxury of sea-bathing is 
enjoyed. At nine A. M. the best of the military bands 
begins to play before the palace. I have their repertoire 
pretty well in mind, having listened to its repetition for 
three weeks past. They play most of the airs from 
the Barbiere di Seviglia, the overture to Othello, and 



DAYS IN ATHENS. 201 

sundry marches and polkas. With the early morning 
period begins the crying of fruit in the streets. These 
cries proceed from men who drive before them donkeys 
laden with rude baskets, in which you see potatoes, 
tomatoes, small squashes, apricots, and other fruits. 
They stop at various doors in our neighborhood, and 
serve their" customers. The maid-servants come out. 
From one of those doors issues with his nurse a little 
child, who is set upon the donkey's back, and allowed to 
stay there while the dealer supplies the houses in the 
vicinity. This little one wears a white cambric weed 
on his hat to prevent sun-stroke, after the manner of 
greater people. 

From ten A. M. to five P. M., the streets are quiet. 
After the latter hour the carriages begin again to roll, 
though the fashionable drive scarcely begins earlier than 
six o'clock. One drives to Faleran, to the Piraeus, or, 
if it be Sunday, to the Polygonon, where the band 
plays, and whither the regent, mounted on a well-bred 
steed, is sure to betake himself. This Polygonon is 
simply a several-sided pavilion, at a distance of a mile 
and a half from the palace. A crowd of people flock 
to it on Sunday afternoons, either in carriages or on foot, 
and all in their best clothes. At a little distance stands 
a small cafe, where lemonade and lokumia may be en- 
joyed, but no ince. The view of the Acropolis from this 
spot is a very pleasant one. But to return to our Athe- 
nian streets. Carriages are very dear in the afternoon, 
being in request for drives to the bath, which is taken 
either at Faleran or at Pireo. A visit to either place 



202 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

refreshes after the long, hot day. When you return in 
the evening, you see the streets and squares about the 
cafes thronged with people sitting at little tables and 
enjoying ices or coffee. The narghile, or water-pipe, is 
much in use here. At these tables one often sees it. 
The sacred herb basil, also, whose legend we have 
elsewhere recounted, appears upon these tables, grow- 
ing in earthen pots. You will somewhere encounter 
the military band, which nightly performs in some 
stated place. But the cafe opposite our hotel has a 
band every evening, and our discussions of Greek pol- 
itics and of Cretan prospects are frequently interrupted by 
strains from Norma, Trovatore, Traviata, and other late 
abortions of the muse. From this phrase let me, how- 
ever, even in passing, deliver Norma. This statement 
carefully enumerates the external resources of Athens 
during waking hours. 

Within doors, besides our grave studies, we have visits. 
Many Greeks and Cretans wait upon the veteran, 
together with American consuls, and Cretan women 
bringing silks, laces, and stockings of their own manu- 
facture, or petitioning for little special helps over and 
above the forty lepta per diem allowed to each of them 
by the committee. Some mysterious consultations are 
there, bent on merciful conspiracies and Heaven-approved 
stratagems. Omer Pacha and his army have surround- 
ed the unhappy Island of Candia, and are tightening 
their folds like a huge serpent. The severity of the 
blockade is starving to death the women and children 
who are shut up in the towns, or hidden in caves and 



DAYS IN ATHENS. 203 

recesses of the mountains. England meanwhile feasts 
the sultan, and pledges the bloody toast of non-inter- 
ference. How comfortable is the water-proof by which 
my Lords Derby and Stanley ward off the approach of 
any fact that might induce compassion or compel indig- 
nation ! Sympathy at every entrance quite shut out, 
and at every appeal for mercy a fat English laugh, 
echoed by the House, which may make the angels 
weep. Smart Argyle keeps heart of grace against this 
squad of the heartless. He even takes the trouble to 
get facts from Greece from sources less poisoned with 
prejudice than the Times' correspondent. * And I am 
fain to believe that a Scotch Presbyterian may easily 
have more heart, brains, and religion than one .who 
combines church and state with the betting-book, and, 
among all races, honors least the human race. 

Our war upon the Turks is a war of biscuit and of 
cotton cloth. We run every permissible risk to feed the 
hungry and clothe the naked, both of these terms being 
of literal application. Our agent lands his insuffi- 
cient cargo, and before his errand is known, the moan 
and wail of the suffering ones break out from hill-side 
and cavern. Psomil psomi ! for God's sake, bread! 
And here comes the sad procession. The merciful 
man is ashamed to look at the women ; their rags 
do not cover them. Hunted are they and starved 
like beasts. But the sultan feasts in England well. O, 
brave and merciful hearts of men and women, be lifted 

* It is only fair to state here that the Times' correspondent, 
minus his Mishellenism, is a most genial, accomplished, and 
hospitable person. 



204 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

up to help them. And O, noble people, poor and hard- 
working, unsophisticated by theories which make the 
Turk's dominion a necessary nuisance, and his religion 
a form of Christianity, do you come forward, and make 
common cause with Christ's poor and oppressed, whose 
faces are ground, whose chains are riveted, in his name. 

Last evening the veteran received his Cretan mail. 
The biscuits arrived safely. The letters which ac- 
knowledge them begin with, " Glory to the triune 
God ! " They then invoke blessings on the American 
people, and fervently thank the veteran, who has been 
at once the provoker of their zeal and the distributor 
of their bounty. Such thanks are painful ; they make 
us feel the agonized suffering to which our small lar- 
gess gives a momentary relief. The Arkadi, our block- 
ade-runner, after landing her cargo, took on board more 
than three hundred women and children, fleeing from 
the last extremities of want and misery. This morning 
appears at the door of our hotel a little group of these 
unfortunates — a mother with four small children, the 
youngest a little nursing babe. Bread we give them, and 
a line to the committee. We ask the woman if she 
would not go back to Crete. u O God ! no," she re- 
plies : " the Turks would murder us." 

Before the letters came, last evening, we heard con- 
tinual cries of " Pende lepta," betokening the issue 
of an extra. The servant buys one and brings it. The 
news from Crete is, that Mechmet Pacha has been in a 
measure surrounded by the Cretans. Our veteran 
shakes his head, and fears that it is otherwise. A little 
later come in some of our Cretan friends, together with 



EXCURSIONS. 205 

one or two new faces. They are hopeful and in some 
excitement. In the midst of this arrives the Cretan 
budget, as before mentioned. Eagerly^ indeed are the 
etters devoured. But the veteran remains thoughtful, 
and not sanguine. And when we are alone, I find that 
he will go at once to France and England, jog the easy 
conscience of diplomacy, and appeal to the sense and 
sympathy of the people. I utter a hearty " God 
speed ! " We had intended visiting Constantinople ; but 
that is now given up, and scarcely regretted, so urgent is 
the need of doing all that can be done for Crete. 

Excursions. 

To return to matters purely personal. I must not 
set down the heat and monotony of long days in 
Athens without stating also the per contras of freshness 
and enjoyment which have been paid in by various 
small undertakings and excursions. First among these 
I will mention a morning meeting under the columns 
of Jupiter Olympius. A small party of us, by ap- 
pointment, started at five A. M., and reached the col- 
umns, some ten minutes later. They stand quite flatly 
on a large plain, lifting their Corinthian capitals high in 
the blue empyrean. But this we have already described 
elsewhere. On this occasion we take seats in the com- 
forting shadow, around a little table, and call for coffee, 
lemonade, and lokumias. The early morning is very 
beautiful. A company of soldiers goes through its 
drill quite near us. Presently its officers also retreat 
under the shadows, take chairs and a table, and call for 
what pleases them best. The regimental band plays an 



206 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

air or two, perhaps in compliment to the neophytes, 
who are of our company. We enjoy the unique scene 
and combination — the picturesque costumes, the beau- 
ties and associations of the spot. So rampant does this 
effort make us, that we determine to have a meeting 
in the Acropolis in the afternoon of this very day, of 
cloudless promise, like its fellows. 

We disperse and return home before the severe heat 
of the morning sets in ; and this is well, for between the 
shade of the pepper-tree w r alk and the shade of the col- 
umns there is a long tract of sunny expanse. At this 
hour it is quite endurable ; an hour later it becomes 
overpowering. We pass the day after the usual fash- 
ion. At six o'clock in the afternoon we do meet in the 
Acropolis, and hold poetic session in a sheltered corner 
of the Parthenon. She who was there invited to read 
her own and other verses felt an especial joy and 
honor in so doing. And we had recitations besides, 
and singing, and Bengal lights, which the fairest of 
moons put to shame. And we went home afterwards 
with great reluctance. 

We had three windy days in Athens, really of a cool 
and boisterous quality. We took advantage of one of 
them to visit Eleusis, where stood the great Temple of 
Ceres, famous as the scene of initiation into the Eleusin- 
ian mysteries, which formed an epoch in the youth of 
every Greek. The road to it leads through Daphne, the 
spot on which Apollo is supposed to have chased the clas- 
sic nymph. The rose laurels (oleanders) still bloom on 
its somewhat barren soil. The way leads also by the sea, 



EXCURSIONS. 207 

commanding a refreshing outlook on the same. A 
modern Albanian village covers the greater part of the 
space formerly occupied by the temple. As the day is 
Sunday, we find the inhabitants walking about in pic- 
turesque costumes, the men in embroidered jackets or 
goatskin capotes, the shonlder of the garment expand- 
ing into a w T ide, short sleeve ; the women in narrow 
skirts, wearing long, narrow redingotes without sleeves, 
in a coarse white woollen material, with two rows of 
black embroidery down the back, between which 
falls their long, braided hair, tied at the end with a black 
ribbon. Some of them wore at the waist large girdle- 
clasps, composed of two disks of silvered copper, not 
unlike a belt ornament worn by ladies in our own 
country. We asked leave to enter one of the small 
thatched cottages. It consisted of a single room. The 
walls were neatly whitewashed. An earthen pot w r as 
boiling upon a fire of sticks. I saw no furniture except a 
low wooden chest, on w r hichwas seated an old woman, 
the grandmother of the family. Several young women 
occupied the hut with her ; all had small children with 
them. They stood about, all but one, who sat on the 
floor in a corner, soothing a sick and crying child. Of 
the ruins of the temple a small angle only is exposed. 
It includes some square yards of marble pavement, frag- 
ments of pillars, and one very large and fine Corinthian 
capital. It shows, besides this, some remnants of mason- 
ry indicating a number of small chambers. Near it is a 
wall, piled up of large pieces of the finest Greek mar- 
ble, roughly broken with a hammer — the wreck, obvi- 



208 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

ously, of former walls or columns. The magnitude of 
the temple is marked by some stones lying quite at 
the other end of the village street : the space between 
these and those first mentioned would indicate a build- 
ing of enormous extent. Much of its ruined material 
probably underlies the little village, and will scarcely be 
brought to light in these times. A small cabin adjacent 
is dignified with the title of museum. To this we were 
admitted by a custode, an old soldier, who has it in 
charge. The collection consists of a mass of small 
fragments, some of which formerly belonged to statues, 
some to architectural sculptures. We saw little to 
move the cupidity of the visitor, but tried to bargain for 
one relic less ugly than the rest ; in vain, however. 
A Frenchman, not long ago, took from these ruins 
many valuable objects, marbles, and even jewelry ; 
since which time the government has strictly forbidden 
these Elgin thefts. The custode's domestic arrange- 
ments amused me more than did his museum. There 
was one very poor little tin, in which he boiled his cof- 
fee ; another, smaller and more miserable, held oil and 
a wick. He had gunpowder in a gourd. His bed was 
small and much dilapidated. A fragment of mat thrown 
upon a heap of stones was his only seat. Few beggars 
in America are, probably, so ill provided with the ap- 
pliances of life. 

One of the women of the cabin I had visited followed 
me to the museum, and naturally held out her hand for 
" pende lepta." Yet beggary is very rare in Greece, 
and this petitioner asked in rather a shamefaced manner, 



EXCURSIONS. 209 

pointing to the little baby on her arm. And this is all 
that there is to narrate of the expedition to Eleusis. 

Of a more stately character was the expedition to 
Kephissia. We started at seven in the morning. There 
were two carriage-loads of our party ; for, in addition to 
the veteran's six-syllabled secretary, we were accompa- 
nied by an amiable Greek family, whose guests we be- 
came for the day. In the villages that surround Athens 
there are no hotels or lodging-houses of any description. 
The traveller perforce implores hospitality, and usually 
receives it. On this occasion our friends had asked and 
obtained the key of a large and sumptuous house at 
Kephissia, whose owners are absent. They had also 
secured the company of three gens (Tarmes, who gal- 
loped along the dusty road beside us. The drive at this 
early hour was cool and most refreshing. The only 
drawback to its comfort was the dust, which the fore- 
most carriage could not avoid sending back to that 
which followed. We reached first the village of Ma- 
roussi, a pretty, shady little place, in whose cafe we saw 
a group of peasants playing at cards. The usual ap- 
pliances, coffee and tobacco, were also visible. Here 
we stopped to water the horses. A handsome marble 
fountain, beneath a shady clump of trees, bears the 
names of the family who caused it to be erected for the 
public good. Shade and water are, indeed, the two 
luxuries of regions such as these. A little farther on, 
we came to Kephissia, and stopped at the door of the 
palatial residence that was to give us shelter for the day. 
We entered a hall paved with white marble, and as- 

H 



2IO FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

cended a marble staircase. We now found ourselves in 
a spacious set of apartments, well kept, and furnished 
according to the Greek theory of summer furniture. 
Roomy divans extended with the walls of each salon, 

of which there were three, opening one into the other. 

* 

Tables and chairs there were ; and, had the proprie- 
tors resided there, handsome Turkish mats would, no 
doubt, have variegated the bare floors. The chief salon 
opened upon a balcony commanding an extensive view. 
The fresh wind blew to quite a gale, greatly raising our 
languid energies. On the walls of this apartment hung 
two portraits — those of the former master and mistress 
of the house. She was sumptuous in dark blue velvet, 
with a collar of Valenciennes lace and a fastening bow 
of blue plaid ribbon. Her fingers were adorned with 
rings. Her husband appeared in his best broadcloth, 
wearing on his head a red fez with a white under edge. 
He had begun life in a humble station, and had raised 
himself to great opulence by his own exertions. Some- 
thing of the consciousness of this was expressed in his 
countenance, which was a good-natured one. He and 
his wife did not long enjoy the fortune so justly earned. 
They died almost before the house at Kephissia was 
finished, bequeathing its magnificence to two young 
nephews, also rich, but resident in Italy. 

The freedom of our day here made amends for the 
many days of hot imprisonment passed in the hotel at 
Athens. Breakfast was necessary on first arriving. 
We then surveyed the bedrooms and made arrange- 
ments for our midday nap. We found comfortable bed- 



♦EXCURSIONS. 211 

steads of bright metal. The servants brought clean 
mattresses, and unrolled them for us. Water and towels 
we enjoyed in abundance. We then walked out to 
view the environs. And first our steps brought us to an 
enormous plane tree, under whose far-reaching shade 
the gossips of the village hold their daily meetings. 
The boughs of this tree, with the cleared space under 
them, formed a sort of rustic salon, cool and delightful 
even in the heat of the day. The unfailing cafe was 
near at hand ; its chairs and tables were scattered 
about these rustic purlieus, and its servants waited for 
orders. Here our companions encountered various ac- 
quaintances from the city, who have come hither to pass 
the season of the great heats. They wore white veils on 
their straw hats, as is much the custom here, and had 
altogether the enfranchised air which city men are wont 
to assume in country retirement. Mail and public con- 
veyance they had none. One of our party brought 
them letters, and took the answers back to Athens. 
We now went in search of the source of the Kephisus, 
called Kefalari. We found a deep spring of the purest 
water, very cool for these parts, and constantly welling 
up. So clear was this pool that one saw without im- 
pediment the smallest objects at the bottom of the water. 
There were waving trees beside it. We sat down, and 
drank, and rested. Our walk next brought us to a 
wine factory, and, as we entered to look at it, the sound 
of a grand piano, skilfully touched, arrested us. Our 
friends guessed the unseen artist, and knocked at her 
door for admittance. Entering, we found two ladies, 



212 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

mother and daughter, of whom the elder was the mis- 
tress of the musical instrument. The daughter, very 
young, but already married, bears the historical name of 
Colocotroni, her husband being the grandson of the old 
revolutionary chieftain of that name. These ladies own 
extensive possessions in this vicinity, and the establish- 
ment in which we were belonged to them. They have a 
large villa at some distance ; but fear of the brigands 
induces them to be satisfied with the shelter of two or 
three rooms, divided off from the rest of the factory, in 
which they live in comfortable simplicity. The table was 
laid for their dejeuner in a little arbor made of pine tree 
branches. Dinner they took at twilight, without shelter. 
They entertained us with the invariable gliko and water, 
and, at our request, the elder lady gave us a specimen 
of her skill in dealing with the piano-forte. Madame 
Colocotroni speaks both French and English, and the 
books and pamphlets in her drawing-room had quite a 
cosmopolitan air of culture. 

After these doings, we returned to the great house, 
and sheltered ourselves in its shady rooms. Here read- 
ing, worsted work, and conversation beguiled the time 
until dinner was announced. The gentlemen, mean- 
while, had retired to smoke and discuss political ques- 
tions. The dinner was much too well-appointed for a 
country picnic. Our munificent entertainers had sent 
out their own valets and chef de cuisine. And so we had 
potage, and entrees, and dessert, with Kephissia wine, 
both white and red, of which I found the former much 
like a Sauterne wine, and very mild and pure in quality. 



EXCURSIONS. 213 

One of the guests was an Asiatic Greek from Broussa. 
His politics were of the backward sort — those of the 
Greek Greeks were radical and progressive. The din- 
ner arena developed therefore some amicable differences 
of opinion. He from Broussa gave me a few charac- 
teristic particulars of his life. When he was but a year 
old, his father chartered a ship, put much of his property 
on board of her, and sent therewith his children to be 
educated in Europe. After many years of absence, 
M. L. returned to Broussa, to seek some traces of his 
family. Such as remained of them had been compelled 
by the pressure of circumstances to adopt the Turkish 
language, and to profess Mohammedanism. Their 
Christian prayers they always continued to recite in 
private, but were fain by every outward expedient to 
escape the ill treatment which Christians receive in a 
country in which Turkish authority is dominant. He 
told me — what I hear strongly corroborated by other tes- 
timony — that the Turks had often cut out the tongues 
of Greek women, in order that they should not be able 
to teach their children either their own language or 
their own religion. Under these circumstances the grad- 
ual absorption of the race in those regions seems almost 
inevitable. 

An after-dinner nap and a ramble completed our 
experience of Kephissia. At sunset we started home- 
ward, the carriages all open, the gens d'armes gallop- 
ing, the dust playing a thousand solid antics, and writing 
hieroglyphics of movement all over our garments and 
faces. We found the little village of Maroussi cool 



214 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

with the evening shadows, and the women and children 
with their pitchers gathered around the marble fountain. 
We ourselves came back to Athens in a cooled and con- 
soled condition, and said at parting, commanding the 
little Greek we knew, Poly kald-evkaristo. 

Hymettus. 

It happened that the next day was fixed upon for a visit 
to Hymettus, whose water is celebrated, as well as its 
honey. A certain monkless monastery on the side of the 
mountain receives travellers within its shady courts, and 
allows them to feed, rest, and amuse themselves according 
to their own pleasure. We started on this classic jour- 
ney soon after five A. M., carrying with us a basket con- 
taining cold chicken, bread, and fruit. We filled one 
carriage ; a party of friends accompanied us in another. 
The road to Hymettus is hilly and difficult ; and our 
own troubles in travelling it were augmented by those 
of our friends in the foremost carriages, whose horses, 
at an early period in the ascent, began to back and 
balk. As these horses, who go so ill, insist upon going 
first, and refuse to stir the moment we take the lead, it 
comes to pass that in some steep ascents they press back 
upon us, to our discomfort and danger. 

An anxious hour brings us to the convent, which 
stands at no great elevation on the side of the mountain. 
The sun is already burning, and we are glad to take 
refuge in the shady inner court of the convent, where 
we are to pass the day. Our friends of the other car- 
riage have brought with them Hatty, a child two years 



HYMETTUS. 215 

of age, and Marigo, a little servant of thirteen. The 
latter has somewhat the complexion of a potato-skin, 
with vivacious eyes, and dark hair, bound, after the 
Greek fashion, with a handkerchief. A young brother 
follows on a -slow donkey, which he belabors to his 
heart's content. 

The court just spoken of is a small enclosure, sur- 
rounded on all sides by whitewashed walls, of which 
one includes a small chapel, with its tapers and painted 
images. In one corner a doorway leads into a den 
which must once have served as a kitchen. It is roughly 
built of stone, with no chimney, its roof presenting va- 
rious apertures for the issue of smoke. Here a fire of 
sticks is hastily kindled on a layer of stones, and the 
coffee, boiled at home, is made hot for us. A wooden 
table is allowed us from the convent, which we decorate 
with a white cloth and green leaves. Rolls, butter, hard- 
boiled eggs, and fruits, together with the coffee, consti- 
tute a very presentable breakfast. We have around us 
the shade of vines and of lemon trees. Our repast is 
gay. When it is ended, we amuse ourselves with books, 
work, and conversation of a scope suited to the weather. 
An Athenian Plato could discourse philosophy in the 
present state of the thermometer. We need' it more 
than ever he did, but we cannot attain it. 

While we sit cheerful and quiescent, dodging the 
sharp sunlight, which slyly carries one position after an- 
other, sounds of laughter from the outer court reach our 
ears. This is a feast day, and in this outer court a com- 



2l6 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

pany of Athenian artisans, of the Snug and Bottom 
order, are keeping it after their fashion. Following 
their voices, we come to a shady terrace, where some 
eight or ten men are seated on the ground around a 
wooden table, one foot in height, w T hile two or three of 
their comrades are employed in cutting up a lamb new- 
ly roasted, spitted on a long, slender pole. 

The cooking apparatus consisted of two or three 
stones, on which the fire of sticks was kindled, and of 
two forked stakes, planted upright, across which the 
spit and roast were laid. While the two before men- 
tioned were hacking the paschal lamb with rude anato- 
my, a third was occupied with the salad, consisting of 
cucumbers sliced, with green herbs, oil, and vinegar. 
Olives, bread, and wine completed the repast. As we 
stood surveying them, one of their number approached 
us, bearing in one hand a plate containing choice mor- 
sels of the roasted meat. This he offered to each of us 
in turn, with great courtesy. In the other hand he car- 
ried a rather dirty fragment of cotton cloth, which he 
also presented to each in turn, as a towel. We took the 
meat with our fingers, and ate it standing, in true Pass- 
over fashion. The doubtful accommodation of the table 
napkin also we were glad to accept. Having fed each 
of us, he presently returned with a glass and bottle of 
wine, which he poured out and offered, saying, u Eleu- 
thera, eleuthera" w 7 hich signifies " free, free." The 
wine, however, was a little out of rule for us, and was 
therefore declined. 



HYMETTUS. 21 7 

This man wore neither coat nor shoes, but his man- 
ners were full dress. His comrades, meanwhile, had 
fallen to attacking their provisions with a hearty good 
will. When the wine was poured out, a toast was pro- 
posed, and " Eleutkeria tis Cretis" ("the liberty of 
Crete") rang from every lip. " Amen, amen," answered 
we, and the entente cordiale was at once established. 
Having eaten and drunk, they began to sing in a mo- 
notonous strain, keeping time by clapping their hands. 
Retiring to our court, we still heard this cadence from 
theirs. Their song, though little musical, had no brutal 
intonations. It breathed a rather refined good nature 
and hilarity. When we again visited our neighbors, 
they were dancing. All, save two of them, formed a 
line, joining hands, the leader and the one next him 
holding together by a pocket handkerchief. They sang 
all the while, stepping rather slowly. The leader, at 
intervals, made as though he would sit upon the ground, 
and then suddenly sprang high, with an oich I something 
like the shout in a Highland fling. In another figure, 
they all lay upon their backs, springing up again quite 
abruptly, and continuing their round. 

These doings, together with talking, writing, and 
needle-work, brought on the hour at which, in these 
climates, sleep becomes necessary. In Greece, if you 
have risen early in the morning, by noon, or soon after, 
you are sensible of a sudden ebb of energy. The mar- 
row seems to forsake your bones, the volition your 
muscles. You may not feel common sleepiness, but 
your skeleton demands instant release from its upright 



2l8 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE, 

effort. You ask to become a heap, instead of a pile, 
and on the offer of the first accommodation, you fall like 
the disjointed column of Jupiter Olympius, more fortu- 
tunate only in the easier renewal of yaur architecture. 
Such a fall, at this moment, the stiffest of us coveted. 

Meanwhile, an ancient hag, from the inner recesses 
of the building, had waited upon us, with copious chat- 
tering of her pleasure in seeing us, and of the draw- 
back which the brigands had offered to her little busi- 
ness of serving the strangers who used to visit the 
convent before Kitzos and others made them afraid. 
For, the convent no longer containing monks, those 
who occupy it are glad to accommodate visitors from 
Athens and elsewhere. And the hag brought some 
heavy mats and quilts, and spread them on the floor of 
a little whitewashed out-house. And on these the little 
two-year-old child and others of the party lay down and 
slept. But " e megale kyrie" — meaning here the elder 
lady, — said the hag, " cannot sleep on the floor. I 
have a good bed up stairs ; she shall lie there. " 

So up stairs mounted the megale kyrie, and found a 
quiet room, and a bed spread with clean sheets in one 
corner. A rude chintz lounge, a wooden chest, and an 
eight-inch mirror completed the furniture of this apart- 
ment. Here, in the bed-corner, the Olympian column 
of e megale fell, and barbarian sleep, sleep of the mid- 
dle ages, at once seized upon it and kept it prostrate. 
After a brief interval of Gothic darkness, the column 
rose again, and confronted the windows commanding a 
view of the court. On one of its wooden settles lay the 



HYMETTUS. 2 1 9 

young Greek secretary in wholesome slumber. Not far 
from htm rested the Greek missionary, a graduate of 
Amherst, and a genial and energetic man. And pres- 
ently the two-year-old, waking, desires to waken these 
also, and makes divers attempts against their peace, 
causing e megale to descend for their protection. On 
her way, in an outer passage, she encounters a poor 
woman, lying on a heap of cedar boughs, and bewail- 
ing a bitter headache. Dinner-time next arrives. The 
wooden tables are once more set out with meat and 
fruit. We exert ourselves to give the feast a picturesque 
aspect, and are not altogether unsuccessful in so doing. 
The true feast, however, seems to consist in saying over 
to one's self, " This is Greece — this is Hymettus. I am 
I, and I am here." And now the greatest heat of the 
day being overpast, a ramble is proposed. 

The young people, escorted by the missionary, climb 
half the steep ascent of the mountain. E megale and 
the secretary pause in the outer court, to whose festivi- 
ties a new feature is now added. Our friends, the arti- 
sans, have feasted again, and little of the lamb remains 
save the bones. They are singing and dancing as 
before, but a strange figure from the mountain has 
joined them. He calls himself a shepherd, but looks 
much like a brigand. He wears a jacket, fustanella, 
and leggings, of the dirtiest possible white — a white 
which mocks at all washings, past and future. He has 
taken the leadership of the coryphees, and now executes 
a dance which is called the " Klepht." His sly move- 
ments express cunning, to which the twinkle of his 



220 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

sinister eyes responds. Now he pretends to be stabbed 
from behind ; now he creeps cautiously upon a pretend- 
ed foe. His dancing, which is very quiet, fatigues him 
extremely ; but before making an end, he performs the 
feat of carrying a glass of wine on his head through 
various movements, not spilling a drop of it. The arti- 
sans are now intending to break up. They cork the 
bottles of wine and vinegar, empty and repack the 
dishes. We have brought them some fruit from our 
dessert. One of them makes a little speech to us, in 
behalf of all, thanking for our interest in the freedom 
of Crete and in the prosperity of their country. And 
" Zetol zeto!" (live! live!) was the pleasant termina- 
tion of the discourse, to which we were obliged to re- 
spond through the medium of a friendly interpretation. 
Finally the day began to wane, and we to pack and 
embark. The bell of the little church now made itself 
heard, and, looking in, we saw the priest engaged 
in going through his service, while a very homespun 
assistant stood at the reading-desk, wearing spectacles 
upon his nose, and making responses through it. A 
circlet of tapers was burning before the altar. One 
old woman or so, a peasant mother with her child, — 
these were the congregation. The idea of the Greek 
as of the Catholic mass is, that it effects a propitiation 
of the Divine Being ; so the priest performs his office, 
often with little or no following. As to those who 
should attend, I believe that one pays one's money and 
has one's choice ; there is nothing absolute about it. 
And now e megale bestows a trifling largess upon 



ITEMS. 221 

the hag, who has also dined off the relics of our feast. 
The books and work are gathered, the carriages sum- 
moned. Item, our driver wore a Palicari dress, and 
took part, very lamely, in the dances we witnessed. 
Farewell, Hymettus ! farewell, shady convent, clear and 
sparkling water ! We kiss our hands to you, and cher- 
ish you in our remembrance. 

On our homeward way we soon passed the Athenian 
party, riding ten or twelve in a one-horse cart, carrying 
with them for an ensign the pole on which their lamb 
had been spitted. They saluted us, and we shouted 
back, " Eleutheria tis Kritisl" Amen, simple souls! 
your instincts are wiser than the reasons of diplomatists. 

Items. 

My remaining chronicles of Athens w r ill be brief and 
simple — gleanings at large from the field of memory, 
whose harvests grow more uncertain as the memorizer 
grows older. In youth the die is new and sharp, and 
the impression distinct and clean cut. This sharpness 
of outline wears with age ; all things observed give us 
more the common material of human life, less its indi- 
vidual features. In this point of view it may well be 
that I shall often speak of things trivial, and omit mat- 
ters of greater importance. Yet even these trifles, 
sketched in surroundings so grandiose, may serve to 
shadow out the features of something greater than 
themselves, always inwardly felt, even when not espe- 
cially depicted. It is in this hope that I bind together 
my few and precious reminiscences of Grecian life, and 



222 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

present them, inadequate as they are, as almost better 
than anything else I have. 

The Palace. 

Armed with a permit, and accompanied by a Greek 
friend, we walked, one bitter hot afternoon, to see the 
royal palace built by King Otho, it is said, out of his 
own appanage, or private income. As an investment 
even for his own ultimate benefit, he would have done 
much better in expending the money on some of the 
improvements so much needed in his capital. The 
salary of the King of Greece amounts to two hun- 
dred and fifty thousand dollars ; and this sum is suffi- 
ciently disproportionate to the slender monetary re- 
sources of the kingdom, without the additional testi- 
mony of this palatial monument of a monarch w T ho 
wished to live like a rich man in a poor country. The 
palace is a very large one. It not only encloses a hol- 
low square, but divides that square by an extension 
running across it. The internal arrangements and 
adornments are mostly in good taste, and one can 
imagine that when the king and queen held their state 
there, the state apartments may have made a brave 
show. The rooms now appear rather scantily fur- 
nished ; the hangings are faded ; and one can make 
one's own reflections upon the vanity and folly of am- 
bitious expense, unperverted by the witchery of present 
luxury, which always argues, " Yes, the peasants have 
no beds, but see — this arm-chair is so comfortable!" 
Now, luxury was for the time absent on leave, and we 



THE PALACE. 223 

thought much of the peasant, and little of the prince. 
For the peasant is a fact, and the prince but a symbol, 
and a symbol of that which to-day can be represented 
without him ; viz., the unity of will and action essential 
to the existence of the state. This unity to-day is ac- 
complished by the cooperation of the multitude, not by 
its exclusion. The symbol remains useful, but no longer 
sublime. No need, therefore, to exaggerate the differ- 
ence between the common symbol and the common 
man. Fortify your unity in the will and understand- 
ing of the people, not in their fear and imagination. 
And let the king be moderate in his following, and 
illustrious in his character and office. So shall he 
be a leader as well as a banner — a fact as well as 
a symbol. 

While I thought these things, I admired Queen 
Amalia's blue, pink, and green rooms, the lustres of 
fine Bohemian glass, the suite of apartments for royal 
visitors, the ball-room and its marble columns, run- 
ning through two stories in height, and altogether well- 
appointed. " The court balls were beautiful," said my 
companion, " and the hall is very brilliant when lighted 
and filled." " Is the queen regretted?" I asked. " Not 
much," was the moderate reply. 

The theatre interested me more, with its scenes still 
standing. In the same hall, at the other end, is a frame 
and enclosure for "tableaux vivants," of which the 
court were very fond. The prettiest girls in Athens 
came here, and posed as Muses, Minervas, and what 
not. I have the photograph of one, with her white 



224 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

robe and lyre. And this brings to me the only good 
word I can say for Otho and Amalia, in the historic 
light in which I view them. They were not gross, nor 
cruel, nor sluttish. Their tastes and pleasures were of 
the refined, social order, and in so far their influence 
and example were softening and civilizing in tendency. 
The temporary prevalence of the German element has 
introduced a tendency towards German culture. And 
while the Greeks who seek commercial education very 
generally migrate to London or Liverpool, the men most 
accomplished in letters and philosophy have studied 
in Germany. All this may not have hindered the 
German patronage from becoming oppressive, nor the 
German rule from becoming intolerable to the people 
at large. But, with the examples of this and other ages 
before one, one thanks a monarch for not becoming 
either a beast or a butcher. Otho was neither. But 
neither was he, on the other hand, a Greek, nor a lover 
of Greeks. Nor could he and his queen present the 
people with a successor Greek in birth, if not in parent- 
age. This absence of offspring, which is said to have 
sorely galled the queen, was really a weak point in 
their case before the people. To be ruled by a Greek 
is their natural and just desire. 

Europe, which has so little charity for their diver- 
gence from her absolute standard, must remember that 
it is not at their request that this expensive and uncon- 
genial condition of a foreign prince has been annexed 
to their system of government. The superstitions of 
the old world have here planted a seed of mischief in 



THE PALACE. 225 

the gardens of the new. England finds it most conven- 
ient to be governed by a German ; France, by an Ital- 
ian ; Russia, by a Tartar line. What more natural than 
that they should muffle new-born Greece in their own 
antiquated fashions? The Greeks assassinated Capo 
d'Istrias for acts of tyranny from which they knew no 
other escape. For, indeed, the head of their state was 
very clumsily adjusted to its body by the same powers 
who left out of their construction several of its most 
important members. An arbitrary president was no 
head for a nation which had just conquered its own 
liberty. A foreign absolute prince was only the same 
thing, with another name and a larger salary. By their 
last resolution the Greeks have attained a constitutional 
government. If their present king cannot administer 
such a one properly, he will make room for some one 
who can. To his political duties, meanwhile, military 
ones will be added. Greece for the Greeks, — Candia, 
Thessaly, and Epirus delivered from the Moslem yoke, 
— this will be the watchword, to which he must reply 
or vanish. 

It is in the face of America that the new nations, 
Greece and Italy, must look for encouragement and 
recognition. The old diplomacy has no solution for 
their difficulties, no cure for their distresses. The ex- 
perience of the present century has developed new 
political methods, new social combinations. In the 
domestic economy of France and England these new 
features are felt and acknowledged. But in the foreign 
policy of those nations the element of progress scarcely 

15 



226 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

appears. In this, force still takes the place of reason ; 
the right of conquest depends upon the power of him 
who undertakes it ; and in the farthest regions visited 
by their flags, organized barbarism gets the better of 
disorganized barbarism. The English in India, the 
French in Algeria, were first brigands, then brokers. 
Of these two, we need not tell the civilized world that 
the broker plunders best. 

Greece is a poor democracy; America, a rich one. 
The second commands all the luxuries and commodities 
of life ; the first, little more than its necessaries. Yet 
we, coming from our own state of things, can under- 
stand how the Greek values himself upon being a man, 
and upon having a part in the efficient action of the 
commonwealth. Greece is reproached with giving too 
ambitious an education to her sons and daughters. Her 
institutions form teachers, not maids and valets, mis- 
tresses and masters, not servants. But for this America 
will not reproach her — America, whose shop-girls take 
music lessons, whose poorest menials attend lectures, 
concerts, and balls. A democratic people does not ac- 
quiesce either in priestly or in diplomatic precedence. 
Let people perform their uses, earn their bread, enjoy 
their own, and respect their neighbors ; these are the 
maxims of good life in a democratic country. " Love 
God, love thy neighbor," is better than " fear God, 
honor the king." As to the sycophancy of snobs, the 
corruption of office, the contingent insufficiency alike 
of electors and elected, — these are the accidents of all 
human governments, to be arrested only by the constant 



THE CATHEDRAL. 227 

watchfulness of the wiser spirits, the true pilots of the 
state. 

By the time that I had excogitated all this, my feet 
had visited many square yards of palace, comprising 
bed-room, banqueting-room, chief lady's room, chapel, 
and so on. I had seen the queen's garden, and the 
f almas qui meruit fer at, and which she has left for 
her successor. I had seen, too, the fine view from the 
upper windows, sweeping from the Acropolis to the 
sea. I had exchanged various remarks with my Athe- 
nian companion. New furniture was expected with the 
Russian princess, but scarcely new enthusiasm. The 
little king had stopped the movement in Thessaly, 
which would have diverted the Turkish force now 
concentrated upon Crete, giving that laboring island a 
chance of rising above the bloody waters that drown 
her. Little love did the little king earn by this course. 
One might say that he is on probation, and will, in 
the end, get his deserts, and no more. And here my 
friend has slipped some suitable coin into the hand of 
the smiling major-domo, who showed us over the royal 
house. Farewell, palace : the day of kings is over. 
Peoples have now their turn, and God wills it. 

The Cathedral. 

In close juxtaposition with the state is the church. 
In America we have religious liberty. This does not 
mean that a man has morally the right to have no re- 
ligion, but that the very nature of religion requires that 
he should hold his own convictions above the ordi- 



228 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

nances of others. The Greeks have religious liberty, 
whose idea is rather this, that people may believe much 
as they please, provided they adhere outwardly to the 
national church. The reason assigned for this is, that 
any change in the form or discipline of this church 
would weaken the bond that unites the Greeks out of 
Greece proper with those within her limits. This out- 
ward compression and inward latitude is always a 
dangerous symptom. It points to practical irreligion, 
an ever widening distance between a man's inward con- 
victions and his outward practice. Passing this by, 
however, let us have a few words on the familiar aspect 
and practical working of the Greek church as at pres- 
ent administered. Like other bodies politic and indi- 
vidual already known to us, it consists of a reconciled 
opposition, which, held within bounds, secures its effi- 
ciency. The same, passing those bounds, would cause 
its annihilation. Like other churches, it is at once 
aristocratic and democratic. It binds and looses. It 
is less intellectual than either Catholicism or Protestant- 
ism ; perhaps less intolerant than either, so far as dogma 
goes. I still think it narrower than either in the scope 
of its sympathies, lower than either in its social and 
individual standard. Taken with the others, it makes 
up the desired three of human conditions ; but before it 
can meet them harmoniously, it has a long way to go. 

Refusing images, but clinging to pictures ; allowing 
the Scriptures to the common people, but discouraging 
their use of the same ; with an unmarried hierarchy of 
some education, and a married secular clergy of none, — 



THE CATHEDRAL. 



229 



the Greek church seems to me to be too flatly in contra- 
diction with itself and with the spirit of the age to maintain 
long a social supremacy, a moral efficiency. The de- 
partment of the clergy last mentioned receive no other 
support than that of the contingent contributions of the 
people, paid in small sums, as the wages of services 
better withheld than rendered. Exorcisms, benedictions, 
prayers recited over graves, or secured as a cure for 
sick cattle, — these are some of the sacerdotal acts by 
which the lesser clergy live. Those who wish to keep 
these resources open must, of course, discourage the 
reading of the New Testament, whose great aim and 
tendency are to substitute a religion of life and doctrine 
for a religion of observances. Congregations reading 
this book for themselves, no matter how poor or igno- 
rant in other matters, will ask something other of the 
priest than the exorcism of demons or the cure of 
cattle. 

Of the higher clergy, some have studied in Germany, 
and, reversing Mr. Emerson's sentence, must know, one 
thinks, better than they build. Orthodox their will 
may be, firm their adherence to the establishment, strict 
their administration of it. But they must be aware of 
the limits that it sets to religious progress. And so long 
as they cannot preach to their congregations the full 
sincerity and power of their inward convictions, their 
ministration loses in moral power, — the house is divided 
against itself. 

I visited the Cathedral of Athens but once. It is a 
spacious and handsome church, in what I should call a 



23O FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

modern Eastern style. It was on Sunday, and mass was 
going on. The middle and right aisles were filled with 
men, the left aisle with women. I do not know whether 
I have mentioned elsewhere that in the Greek and Rus- 
sian, as in the Quaker church, men and women stand 
separately — stand, for seats are neither provided nor 
allowed. I found a place among the women, com- 
manding a view of the high altar. The archbishop, a 
venerable-looking man, in gold brocade and golden 
head-dress, went through various functions, which, 
though not identical with those of the Romish mass, 
seemed to amount to about the same thing. There 
were bowings, appearings and retirings, the swinging 
of censers, and the presentation of tapers fixed in silver 
candelabras, and tied in the middle with black ribbon, 
so as to form a sheaf. These candelabras the archbishop 
from time to time took, one under each arm, and made 
a step or two towards the congregation. The dresses 
of the assistant priests were very rich, and their heads 
altogether Oriental in aspect. One of them, with his 
gold-bronzed face and golden hair, looked like pictures 
of St. John. The vocal part of the performance con- 
sisted of a sort of chant, with responses intensely nasal 
and unmusical. This psalmody, which is little relished 
by Greeks of culture, is yet maintained, like the disci- 
pline, intact, lest the most trifling amelioration should 
weaken the tie of Christian brotherhood between the 
free Greek church and the church that is in bondage 
with her children. To one familiar with the pretexts 
of conservatism, this plea of union before improvement 



THE MISSIONARIES. 23 1 

is not new nor availing. One laughs, and remembers 
the respectabilities who tried to paralyze the American 
intellect and conscience in order to save the Union, 
which, after all, was saved only by the measures they 
abhorred and denounced. I had soon enough of what 
I was able to hear and see of the Greek mass. As I 
stole softly away, I passed a sort of lesser altar, before 
which was burning a circular row of tapers. An old 
woman had similar tapers on a small table, for sale, I 
suppose. I was invited, by gesture, to consummate a 
pious act by the purchase of some of these, but declined, 
not without remembering that I was some time since 
elected a lay delegate from a certain Unitarian church 
to a certain Unitarian conference. This fact, if com- 
municated, would not have heightened my standing 
in the approbation of the sisters who then surrounded 
me. " What, no candle?" said their indignant glances. 
I was silent, and fled. 

The Missionaries. 

In the presence of the contradictions alluded to above, 
the position of the Greek church and of American Prot- 
estant missionaries becomes one of mutual delicacy and 
difficulty. The church allows religious liberty, and as- 
sumes religious tolerance. Yet it naturally holds fast 
its own children within its own borders. The Protes- 
tants are pledged to labor for the world's Christianiza- 
tion. When they see its progress opposed by antiquated 
usage and insufficient method, they cannot acquiesce in 
these obstacles, nor teach others to revere them. Here 



232 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

we must say at once that no act is so irreligious as the 
resistance of progress. Thought and conscience are 
progressive. Christ's progressive labor carried further 
the Jewish faith and tenets which were religious before 
he came, but which became irreligious in resisting the 
further and finer conclusions to which he led. " I come 
not to destroy, but to fulfil." Progress does fulfil in 
the spirit, even though it destroy in the letter. Protes- 
tantism acknowledges this, and this acknowledgment 
constitutes its superiority over the Greek and Catholic 
churches. The sincere reader of the New Testament 
will be ever more and more disposed to make his re- 
ligion a matter lying directly between himself and the 
Divine Being. His outward conformity to all just laws 
and good institutions will be, not the less, but the more, 
perfect because his scale of obligation is an individual 
one, the spring and motive of his actions a deeply in- 
ward one. Church and state gain in soundness and 
efficiency by every individual conscience that functions 
within their bounds. Religion of this sort leads away 
from human mediations, from confessions, benedictions, 
injunctions, and permissions of merely human authority. 
It confesses first to God, afterwards, if at all, to those 
whom its confessions can benefit. It brings its own 
thought to aid and illustrate the general thought. It 
cannot abdicate its own conclusions before any magni- 
tude either of intellect or of age. 

The Protestant, therefore, would be much straitened 
within the Greek limits. He is forced to teach those 
who will listen to him that God is much nearer than 



THE MISSIONARIES. 233 

the priest, and that their own simple and sincere under- 
standing of Christian doctrine is at once more just and 
more precious than the fallacies and sophisms of an 
absolute theology. Such teaching will scarcely be more 
relished by the Greek than by the Romish clergy ; yet 
the Protestant must teach this, or be silent. 

And this, after their fashion, the American missiona- 
ries do set forth and illustrate. Their merits and de- 
merits I am not here to discuss. How much of polite 
culture, of sufficient philosophy, goes with their honest 
purpose, it is not at this time my business to know or 
to say. Neither is their special theology mine. They 
believe in a literal atonement, while I believe in the 
symbolism which makes a pure and blameless sufferer 
a victim offered in behalf of his enemies. They look 
for a miraculous, I for a moral regeneration. They 
make Christ divine of birth, I make him simply divine 
of life. Their dogmas would reconcile God to man, 
mine would only reconcile man to God. Finally, 
they revere as absolute and divine a book which I 
hold to be a human record of surpassing thoughts 
and actions, but with the short-comings, omissions, 
and errors of the human historiographer stamped upon 
them. With all this diversity of opinion between the 
church of their communion and that of mine, I still 
honor, beyond all difference, the Protestant cause for 
which they stand in Greece, and consider their repre- 
sentation a just and genuine one. 

In writing this I have had in mind the three dissent- 
ing missionaries, Messrs. Kalopothaki, Constantine, and 



234 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

Zacularius. The older mission of Dr. and Mrs. Hill is 
an educational one. I believe it to have borne the hap- 
piest fruits for Greece. Whenever I have met a scholar 
of Mrs. Hill, I have seen the traces of a firm, pure, and 
gentle hand — one to which the wisest and tenderest of 
us would willingly confide our daughters. In raising the 
whole scale of feminine education in Greece, she has 
applied the most potent and subtle agent for the elevation 
of its whole society. She herself is childless ; but she 
need scarcely regret it, since whole generations are sure 
to rise up and call her blessed. 

Dr. Hill is at present chaplain to the English embassy, 
at whose chapel he preaches weekly. Mrs. Hill and 
himself seem to stand in very harmonious relations with 
Athenian society, as well as with the travelling and 
visiting world. 

The missionaries preach and practise with unremit- 
ting zeal. They also publish a weekly religious paper. 
Their wives labor faithfully in the aid and employment 
of the Cretan women and children, and, I doubt not, in 
other good works. But of these things I have now 
told the little that I know. 

The Piazza. 

Venice has a Piazza, gorgeous with shops, lights, mu- 
sic, and, above all, the joyous life of the people. Athens 
also has a Piazza, bordered with hotels and cafes, with 
a square of trees and flowering shrubs in the middle. 
It lies broadly open to the sun all day long, and gives 
back his rays with a torrid refraction. When day de- 



THE PIAZZA. 



235 



clines, the evening breezes sweep it refreshingly. Accord- 
ingly, as soon as the shadows permit, the spaces in front 
of the cafes — or, in Greek, caffeneions — are crowded 
with chairs and tables, the chairs being filled by human 
beings, many of whom have ripened, so far as the head 
goes, into a fez — have unfolded, so far as the costume 
goes, into pali-kari petticoats and leggings. Between 
the two hotels is mortal antipathy. Ours — " Des Etran- 
gers " — has taken the lead, and manages to keep it. 
The prices of the other are lower, the cuisine much the 
same, the upper windows set to command a view of the 
Acropolis, which is in itself an unsurpassable picture. 
Where the magic resides which keeps our hotel full and 
the other empty, I know not, unless it be in the slippery 
Eastern smile of the landlord — an expression of counte- 
nance so singular that it inevitably leads you, from curi- 
osity, to follow it further. In our case it led to no 
profound of wickedness. We were not cheated, nor 
plundered, nor got the better of in any way that I re- 
member. Our food was good, our rooms proper, our 
charges just. Yet I felt, whenever I encountered the 
smile, that it angled for me, and caught me on a hook 
cunningly baited. 

I must say that our landlord was even generous. Be- 
sides our three meals per diem, — which grew to be 
very slender affairs, so far as we were concerned, — we 
often required lemonades and lokumia, besides sending of 
errands innumerable. For these indulgences no extra 
charge was made. In an Italian, French, or English 
hotel, each one of them would have had its penitentiary 



236 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

record. So the mystery of the smile must have had 
reference to matters deeply personal to its wearer, and 
never made known to me. 

The cafes seemed to maintain a thrifty existence, 
But one of them took especial pains to secure the ser- 
vices of a band of music. Hence, on the evenings when 
the public band did not play, emanated the usual capric- 
cios from Norma, Trovatore, and the agonies of Tra- 
viata. Something better and worse than all this was 
given to us in the shape of certain ancient Greek or 
Turkish melodies, obviously composed in ignorance of 
all rules of thorough-bass, with a confusion of majors and 
minors most perplexing to the classic, but interesting to 
the historic sense. I rejoiced especially in one of these, 
which bore the same relation to good harmony that Eas- 
tern dress bears to good composition of color. It was 
obviously well liked by the public, as it was usually 
played more than once during the same evening. 

Before the shadows grew quite dark, a barouche or 
two, with ladies and livery, would drive across the Piaz- 
za, giving a whiff of fashion like the gleam of red cos- 
tume that heightens a landscape. And the people sat, 
ate and drank, came and went, in sober gladness, not 
laughing open-mouthed — rather smiling with their 
eyes. From our narrow hotel balcony we used to 
look down and wonder whether we should ever be 
cool again. For though the evenings were not sultry, 
their length did not suffice to reduce the fever of the day. 
And the night within the mosquito-nettings was an 
agony of perspiration. I now sit in Venice, and am cool ; 






DEPARTURE. 237 

but I would gladly suffer something to hear the weird 

music, and to see the cheerful Piazza again. Yet when 

I was there, for ten minutes of this sea-breeze over the 

lagoons I would have given — Heaven knows what. 

O Esau ! 

Departure. 

Too soon, too soon for all of us, these rare and costly 
delights were ended. We had indeed suffered days 
of Fahrenheit at ioo° in the shade. We had made 
experience of states of body which are termed bilious, 
of states of mind more or less splenetic, lethargic, and 
irritable. We dreamed always of islands we were never 
to visit, of ruins which we shall know, according to 
the flesh, never. We pored over Muir and Miss 
Bremer, and feebly devised outbreaks towards the 
islands, towards the Cyclades, Santorini, but especially 
towards Corinth, whose acropolis rested steadily in our 
wishes, resting in our memory only as a wish. To- 
wards Constantinople, too, our uncertain destinies had 
one moment pointed. But when the word of command 
came, it despatched us westward, and not eastward. By 
this time our life had become somewhat too literally a 
vapor, and our sublimated brains were with difficulty 
condensed to the act of packing. Perpetual thirst tor- 
mented us. And of this as of other Eastern tempta- 
tions, I must say, " Resist it." Drinking does not 
relieve this symptom of hot climates. It, moreover, 
utterly destroys the tone of the stomach. A little tea is 
the safest refreshment ; and even this should not be 
taken in copious draughts. Patience and self-control are 



138 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE, 



essential to bodily health and comfort under these torrid 
skies. The little food one can take should be of the 
order usually characterized as " nutritious and easy of 
digestion." But so far as health goes, " Avoid Athens 
in midsummer " will be the safest direction, and will 
obviate the necessity of all others. 

In spite, however, of all symptoms and inconveniences, 
the mandate that said, " Pack and go," struck a chill 
to our collective heart. We visited all the dear spots, 
gave pledges of constancy to all the kind friends, tried 
with our weak sight to photograph the precious views 
upon our memory. Then, with a sort of agony, we hur- 
ried our possessions, new and old, into the usual narrow 
receptacles, saw all accounts discharged, feed the hotel 
servants, took the smile for the last time, and found our- 
selves dashing along the road to the Piraeus with feel- 
ings very unlike the jubilation in which we first passed 
that classic transit. It was all over now, like a first love, 
like a first authorship, like a honey-moon. It was over. 
We could not say that we had not had it. But O, the 
void of not having it now, of never expecting to have 
it again ! 

Kind friends went with us to soften the journey. 
At- the boat, Dr. and Mrs. Hill met and waited with 
us. I parted from the apostolic woman with sincere 
good-will and regret. Warned to be on board by six 
P. M., the boat did not start till half-past seven. We 
waved last adieus. We clung to the last glimpses of the 
Acropolis, of the mountains ; but they soon passed out 
of sight. We savagely went below and to bed. The 






RETURN VOYAGE. 239 

diary bears this little extract : " The y£gean was calm 
and blue. Thus, with great pleasure and interest, 
and with some drawbacks, ends my visit to Athens. A 
dream — a dream ! " 

Return Voyage. 

To narrate the circumstances of our return voyage 
would seem much like descending from the poetic de- 
nouement of a novel to all the prosaic steps by which 
the commonplace regains its inevitable ascendency after 
no matter what abdication in favor of the heroic. Yet, 
as travel is travel, whether outward or inward bound, 
and as our homeward cruise had features, I will try, 
with the help of the diary, to pick them out of the van- 
ishing chaos of memory, premising only that I have no 
further denouement to give. 

" Story? Lord bless you, I have none to tell, sir." 

On referring, therefore, to Clayton's quarto, of the date 
of July 21, 1867, I find the day to have been passed 
by us all in the hot harbor of Syra, on board the boat 
that brought us there. At seven A. M. we did indeed 
land in a small boat with Vice-Consul Saponsaki, and 
betake ourselves through several of the steep and sun- 
ny streets of the town. At one of the two hotels we 
staid long enough to order lemonades and drink them. 
The said hotel appeared, on a cursory survey, to be as 
dirty and disorderly as need be ; but we soon escaped 
therefrom, and visited the theatre, the Casino, and the 
Austrian consul. The Casino is spacious and hand- 



24O FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

some, giving evidence at once of wealth and of taste in 
those who caused it to be built. Such an establishment 
would be a boon in Athens, where there is no good 
public reading-room of any kind. The theatre is rea- 
sonable. Here, in winter, a short opera season is en- 
joyed, and, in consequence, the music books of the 
young ladies teem with arrangements of Verdi and of 
Donizetti. We found the square near the quay lively 
with the early enjoy ers of coffee and the narghile. 
Every precious inch of shade was, as usual, carefully 
appropriated ; but the sun was rapidly narrowing the 
boundaries of the shadow district. Our chief errand 
resulted in the purchase of an ok of lokumias, which 
we virtuously resolved to carry to America, if possible. 
The little boat now returned us to the steamer, where 
breakfast and dinner quietly succeeded each other, little 
worthy of record occurring between. One interesting 
half hour reached us in the shape of a visit from Papa 
Parthenius, a young and active member of the Cretan 
Syn-eleusis. He came with tidings for our chief veter- 
an, — tales of the Turks, and how they could get no water 
at Svakia ; tidings also of brave young DeKay, and of his 
good service in behalf of the island. While these, in the 
dreadful secrecy of an unknown tongue, impart he did, 
I seized pen and ink, and ennobled my unworthy sketch- 
book with a croquis of his finely-bronzed visage. His 
countenance was such as Miss Bremer would have 
called dark and energetic. He wore the dress of his 
calling, which was that of the secular priesthood. He 
soon detected my occupation, and said, in Greek, " I 



RETURN VOYAGE. 241 

regret that the kyrie should make my portrait with- 
out my arms." 

We parted from him very cordially. Consul Camp- 
field afterwards gave us a refreshing row about the 
harbor, bringing us within view of the two iron-clads 
newly purchased and brought out to run the Turkish 
blockade. One of these was famous in the annals of 
Secessia. Both served that more than doubtful cause. 
Then we went back to the vessel, and the rest of the 
day did not get beyond perspiration and patience. 

Towards evening a spirited breeze began to lash the 
waters of the harbor into hilly madness. White caps 
showed themselves, and we, who were to embark on 
board another vessel, for another voyage, took note of the 
same. The friendly Evangelides now came on board, 
and scolded us for not having sent him word of our ar- 
rival. We pleaded the extreme heat of the day, which 
had made dreadful the idea of visiting and of locomo- 
tion of any sort. He was clad from head to foot in 
white linen, and looked most comfortable. While he 
was yet with us, the summons of departure came. In 
our chief's plans, meanwhile, a change had taken place. 
Determining causes induced him to return to Athens, 
minus his female impedimenta : so the little boat that 
danced with us from the Lloyd's Syra to the Lloyd's 
Trieste steamer danced back with him, leaving three 
disconsolate ones, bereft of Greece, and unprotected of 
all and any. Nor did we make this second start with- 
out a contretemps. Having bidden the chief farewell, 
we proceeded at once to take account of our luggage ; 
16 



242 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

and lo ! the shawl bundle was not. Now, every know- 
ing traveller is aware that this article of travelling fur- 
niture contains much besides the shawl, which is but the 
envelope of all the odds and ends usually most essential 
to comfort. For the second in command, therefore, pre- 
viously designated as a megale, there was but one course 
to pursue. To hire a boat, refuse to be cheated in its 
price, tumble down the ship's side, row to the Syra 
steamer, pick up the missing bundle, astonish the chief 
in a pensive reverie, " sibi et suis" on the cabin sofa, and 
return triumphant, was the work of ten minutes. But 
the sea ran high, the little boat danced like a cockle- 
shell, and the neophytes were afraid, and much relieved 
in mind when the ancient reappeared. 

The America (the Trieste steamer) did not weigh 
anchor before midnight. Soon after the adventure of 
the shawl bundle, the Syra steamer fired a gun, and 
slipped out to sea. We had seen the last of the chief 
for a fortnight at least, and our attention was now 
turned to the quarters we w r ere to occupy for four days 
to come. These did not at first sight seem very prom- 
ising. Our state-rooms were small, and bare of all fur- 
niture, except the bed and washing fixtures. Just out- 
side of them, on the deck, was the tent under which 
the Turkish women horded. For we found, on coming 
on board, a Turkish pacha and suite, bound from Con- 
stantinople to Janina, to take the place of him whom we 
had, a month before, accompanied on his way from 
Janina to Constantinople, via Corfu, where we were to 



RETURN VOYAGE. 243 

be quit of the present dignitary. But before I get to 
the Turks, I must mention that good Christian, the 
Austrian consul at Syra, who came on board before we 
left, and introduced to me a young man in an alarming 
condition of health, a Venetian by birth, and an officer 
in the Austrian navy. His illness had been induced by 
exposure incident to his profession in the hot harbor 
of Kanea. 

The first night we made acquaintance only with va- 
rious screaming babies, the torment of young mothers 
who did not know how to take care of them, their 
nurses having been left at home. The night was suffi- 
ciently disturbed up to the period of departure, and 
these little ones vented their displeasure in tones which 
argued well for their lungs. The next morning showed 
us a rough sea, the vessel pitching and tossing, the ladies 
mostly sea sick — we ourselves well and about, but much 
incommoded by heat and want of room. A tall mem- 
ber of the pacha's suite came into our little round house, 
dressed principally in a short, quilted sack of bright red 
calico. He carried in his arms a teething baby, very 
dirty and ill-dressed, and tried to nurse and soothe it on 
his knee, the mother being totally incapacitated by sea- 
sickness. This man was tall and fair. I thought he 
might be an Albanian. I made some incautious re- 
marks in French concerning his dress, which he obvi- 
ously understood, for he disappeared, and then reap- 
peared dressed in a handsome European suit, with a 
bran-new fez on his head, but carrying no baby. An- 
other of the suite, unmistakably a Turk, pestered the 



244 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

round-house. This individual wore white cotton draw- 
ers under a long calico night shirt of a faded lilac pattern, 
which was bound about his waist with a strip of 
yellow calico. The articles of this toilet were far from 
clean. Glasses and a fez completed it. The wearer we 
learned to be a fanatical Turk, who came among us in 
this disorderly dress to show his contempt for Christians 
in general. His motive was held to be, in his creed, a 
religious one. It further caused him to take his meals 
separately from us — a circumstance which we scarcely 
regretted. He was much amazed at the worsted work 
in the hands of one of the neophytes, and went so far 
as to take it up, and to ask a bystander who spoke his 
language whether the young girl spun the wools her- 
self before she began her tapestry. He then asked the 
price of the wools, and on hearing the reply exclaimed, 
" What land on earth equals Turkey, where you can buy 
the finest wool for twelve piastres an ok ! " 

Besides these not very appetizing figures, we had on 
board some Fanariote Greeks, of aristocratic pretensions 
and Turkish principles ; some Hellenes of the true Greek 
stamp ; a Dalmatian sea captain, his wife and daughters, 
who spoke Italian and looked German ; an Armenian 
lady and young daughter from Constantinople, bound to 
Paris ; several Greeks resident in Transylvania, speaking 
Greek and German with equal facility ; two Armenian 
priests returning from an Eastern mission, and en route 
for Vienna ; the Austro-Italian before spoken of ; a Bo- 
hemian glass merchant ; and an array of deck passen- 
gers as varied and motley as those already enumerated 



RETURN VOYAGE. 245 

as belonging to the first cabin. With all of the latter 
we made acquaintance ; but although we moved among 
them with cordiality and good-will, the equilibrium of 
sympathy was difficult to find. The Fanariotes were no 
Philhellenes, the Armenian ladies w r ere frequenters of 
the sultan's palace ; the Italian was thoroughly German 
in his inclinations, and spoke in utter dispraise of his own 
country when his feeble condition allowed him to speak. 
Of the Armenian priests, one was quite a man of the 
world, and somewhat reserved and suspicious. The other 
showed something of the infirmity of advanced age in 
the prolixity of his speech, as well as in its matter. In 
this Noah's ark e megale moved about, mindful of the 
bull in the china shop, and tried not to upset this one's 
mustard-pot and that one's vase of perfume. And as 
all were whole when she parted from them, she has 
reason to hope that her efforts were tolerably successful. 
In the human variety shop just described, I must not 
forget to speak of my sisters, the Turkish women, im- 
prisoned in a small portion of the deck, protected by 
a curtain from all intrusion or inspection. As this 
sacred precinct lay along the outside partition of the 
ladies' cabin, I became aware of a remote window, 
through which a practicable breach might be made in 
their fortress. Thither, on the first day, I repaired, and 
paid my compliments. They were, I think, five in 
number, and lay along on mattresses, disconsolately 
enough. With the help of the stewardess, I inquired 
after their health, and learned that seasickness held 
them prostrate and helpless. Nothing ate they, noth- 



246 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

ing drank they. Two of them were young and pretty. 
Of these, one was the wife of the bey who accompa- 
nied the pacha. She had a delicate cast of features, 
melancholy dark eyes, and dark hair bound up with a 
lilac crape handkerchief. The other was the mother 
of the teething child spoken of above, and the wife of 
the tall parent who nursed it. By noon on the second 
day the sea had sunk to almost glassy smoothness. All 
of the patients were up and about ; the children were 
freshly washed and dressed, and became coaxable. One 
of the Armenian ladies now volunteered to go with me 
to look in upon our Turkish friends. We found them 
up and stirring, making themselves ready to land at 
Corfu. And to my companion they told what good 
messes they had brought from Constantinople, and 
thrown into the blue yEgean ; for the heat of the vessel 
spoiled their victuals much faster than they, being sea- 
sick, could keep them from spoiling. And they laughed 
over their past sufferings much after the fashion of 
other women. The pretty mother now appeared in a 
loose gown of yellow calico, holding up her baby. I 
made a hasty sketch of the pair as they showed them- 
selves at the cabin window ; but the flat, glaring light 
did not allow me to do even as well as usual, which is 
saying little. The oval face, smooth, black brows, and 
long, liquid eyes, were beautiful, and her smile was 
touchingly child-like and innocent. The bey's wife wore 
a lilac calico ; another wore pale green. These dresses 
consisted of loose gowns, with under-trousers of the 
same material ; they were utterly unneat and tasteless. 



RETURN VOYAGE. 247 

I presently saw them put on their y ash macs, and draw 
over their calicoes a sort of cloak of black stuff, not un- 
like alpaca. They now looked very decently, and, 
being covered, were allowed to sit on deck until the 
time of the arrival in Corfu. The pretty one whom I 
sketched begged to look at my work. On seeing it she 
exclaimed, " Let no man ever behold this ! " Nor could I 
blame her, for it maligned her sadly. Concerning the 
landing in Corfu, the meagre diary shows this passage : — 
" Went on shore at Corfu at 5.45 P. M., returning at 
6.50. Expenses in all, ten francs, including boat, ices, 
and valet de place. The steamer was so hot that this 
short visit on shore was a great relief, Corfu being at 
this hour very breezy and shady. Every one says that 
the Ionian Islands are going to ruin since the departure 
of the English. This is from the want of capital and 
of enterprise. So it would seem as if people who have 
no enterprise of their own must be content to thrive 
secondarily upon that of other people. The whole type 
of Greek life, however, is opposed to the Occidental 
type. Its luxury is to be in health, and to be satisfied 
with little. We Westerns illustrate the multiplication 
of wants with that of resources, or vice versa. [The 
diary, prudently, does not attempt to decide the ques- 
tion of antecedence and consequence between these 
two.] The Greeks seem, so far, to illustrate the 
converse. Whether this opposition can endure in the 
present day, I cannot foresee. But this I can see — that 
Greece will not have more luxury without more poverty. 
The circle of wealth, enlarging, will more and more 



248 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

crowd those who are unfitted to attain it, and who must 
be content with the minimum even of food and rai- 
ment." 

So far the pitiful, sea-addled diary. It does not re- 
count how mercifully the captain of our steamer found 
a valet de place for us, and told him to take care of us, 
and bring us back at a given moment. Nor how our 
payment of ten francs for three persons, instead of 
Heaven knows what exorbitation, was owing to this 
circumstance. For it may not be known to the inex- 
perienced that the boatmen of Corfu are wont to make 
a very moderate charge for setting people ashore on the 
island. This is done in order to disarm suspicion : 
facile descensus Averni — sed revocare gradum ! But 
when you wish to return to your vessel, the need being 
pressing, and the time admitting of no delay, the same 
boatmen are wont to demand fifteen or twenty francs 
per capita, and the more you swear the more they 
laugh. Among the arrearages of justice adjourned to 
that supreme chancery term, the Day of Judgment, I 
fear there must be many of English et al. vs. boat- 
men. But under the captain's happy administration, I 
made bold, when the boatman insisted on being paid 
for the return trip in mid-sea, to refuse a single copper. 
Now, the gift of unknown tongues sometimes resides 
in the person who hears them. And I received it as 
a decided advantage that I understood no phrase of 
the boatmen's low muttering and grumbling. So they 
were forced to carry us to the gangway of the steamer, 
where the captain stood to receive us. And I paid 



FARTHER. 249 

the men and the valet under the captain's supervision, 
and when the former demanded a bottiglia, the captain 
cried out, in energetic tones, " Get off of my ship at 
once, you scoundrels ; you have been well paid al- 
ready ; " the which indeed befell. 

Neither does the diary recount how the drivers of 
public carriages followed us up and down the streets, 
insisting upon our engaging them, first at their price, 
and then at ours, for a trip which we had neither time 
nor mind to make, desisting after half an hour's annoy- 
ance ; nor how a money changer, given a napoleon, 
contrived to make up one of its francs by slipping in 
two miserable Turkish paras, not worth half a franc ; 
nor how the whistle of the steamer made our return 
very anxious and hurried, the passengers accusing us 
of having delayed the departure, while the captain con- 
fided to us that he had assumed this air of extreme 
hurry, in order to stimulate the disembarkation of the 
Turks, whose theory of taking one's own time was 
somewhat loosely applied in the present instance. 
Well, this is all I know of Corfu. It is little enough, 
and yet, perhaps, too much. 

Farther. 

Corfu was the last of Greece to us. A tightening at 
our heartstrings told us so. We consented to depart, 
but conquered the agony of making farewell verses, 
dear at any price, in the then state of the thermometer. 
Our feelings, such as they were, were mutely exchanged 
with the bronze statue of that late governor, who 



250 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

brought the water into the town. Unless he should 
prove as frisky as the Commendatore in Don Giovanni, 
they will never be divulged. 

We now set our faces, in conjunction with the tide of 
conquest, westward. We all suffered heat, ennui, and 
baby-yell. The Italian invalid languished in his hot 
state-room, or in our cabin, his weak condition increas- 
ing the dangerous discomfort of perspiration — a grave 
matter when a chill would be death. Worsted work 
progressed, the hungry sketch-book got a nibble or two, 
and the mild good-wills of the voyage ripened, never, 
we fear, to bear future harvests of profit and inter- 
course. Not the less were we beholden to them for the 
time. And we will even praise thee here, Armenian 
Anna, with thy young graces, thy Eastern beauty, thy 
charming English, and thoroughly genial behavior. 
Mother and daughter had distinction, in the French 
sense of the word. From the former I had many 
apergus of Eastern life. She was married at the early 
age of fourteen, and wore on that occasion the tradi- 
tional veiling of threads of gold, bound on her brow 
and falling to her feet. " How glad I was to remove 
it," she said, " it was so heavy ! " " What did you do 
with it?" I asked. " I divided it into several portions, 
and endowed with them the marriage of poorer girls, 
who could not afford it for themselves." But madame 
informed me that this cumbrous ornament has now 
passed out of fashion, the tulle veil and orange flowers 
of French usage having generally taken its place. This 
lady was supposed by most people to be the elder sister of 



FARTHER. 25 1 

her pretty daughter. In her soberer beauty one seemed 
to see the dancing eyes and pouting cheeks of the other 
carried only a little farther on. And both were among 
the chief comforts of the voyage. 

Of the two Armenian priests, the younger held him- 
self aloof, as if he understood full well the inconven- 
iences of sympathy — a dry, steely, well-balanced man, 
without enthusiasm, but fine in temperament, well bred, 
and with at least the culture of a man of the present 
world. But Pere Michel, the elder, was more willing 
to impart his mental gifts and experiences to such as 
would hear them. And he was a man of another age, 
with obsolete opinions, which he produced like the un- 
conscious bearer of uncurrent coin. 

Here is a little specimen of his talk, the subject being 
that of dreams and revelations : " What is to happen, that 
God alone can know. But that which is already hap- 
pening, or which has happened at a distance, this the 
demonio may know and reveal. And he will reveal it 
to you in a dream, or in a vision, or by a presentiment." 

" But what does the demonio get, Pere Michel, for the 
trouble of revealing it to us ? " 

"The satisfaction of making men superstitious ?" 

Non c'e male, Pere Michel. And what, thought I, is 
the chief advantage of being pope, cardinal, arch-priest, 
confessor? The satisfaction of making men supersti- 
tious. At another time I remarked upon the fact that 
the monasteries in Greece are usually situated at some 
height on a mountain side. " They are of the order of 
St. Basil," said the old man ; " he always loved the re- 



252 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

tirement of the mountains, and his followers imitate him 
in this." Pere Michel had a pleasant smile, with just 
enough of second childhood to be guileless, not foolish. 
And I may here say that the Armenian priesthood ap- 
pear to me to have quite an individuality of their own, 
corresponding to no order of the Romish priesthood 
with which I am acquainted. 

The excessive heat of the cabins and after deck one 
day induced me to head a valorous invasion of the for- 
ward deck, followed by as many of the sisterhood as I 
was able to recruit. The steamer being a very long 
one, we had to make quite a journey before we entered 
that almost interdicted region, crossing a long bridge, 
and passing the captain's sacred office. We carried 
books and work ; our fauteuils followed us. And here 
we found cool breezes and delicious shade. The sail- 
ors and deck passengers lay in heaps about the boards, 
taking their noonday nap in a very primitive manner. 
We profited by this discovery so far as to repeat the 
invasion daily while the voyage lasted. 

But it came to end sooner than one might suppose 
from this long description. We had left Syra on Sun- 
day night ; on Thursday afternoon we landed in Trieste. 
Farewell, Turco-Italians, Austro-Italians, Sieben Ge- 
birgers, Transylvanians, Dalmatians, ladies, babies, 
priests, and all. When shall we meet again? Scarcely 
before that great and final analysis which promises to 
distinguish, once for all, the sheep from the goats. And 
even for that supreme consummation and its results, 
all of you may command my best wishes. 



fragments. 253 

Fragments. 

Up to the point last reached, my jottings down had 
been made with tolerable regularity. Living is so much 
more rapid than writing, that an impossible babe, who 
should begin his diary at his birth, would be sure to 
have large arrears between that period and the day of 
his death, however indefatigable he might be in his 
recording. A man cannot live his life and write it too ; 
hence the work that men who live much leave to their 
biographers. So, of the space that here intervened be- 
tween Trieste and Paris, I lived the maximum and wrote 
the minimum ; that is, the little death's-head and cross- 
bone mementos with which the diary is forced to record 
the spot at which each day fell and lay, together with 
the current expenses of its interment. In some places 
even these are wanting, and the stricken soul, looking 
over the diary, cries out, " O, my leanness ! " or words 
to that effect. Yet the poor document referred to shall 
help us what it can, beginning with the return from 
cheap, cosy Trieste to that polished jewel of the Adri- 
atic, which now shines doubly in its new setting of 
liberty. 

We went, as we came, in the Lloyd steamer, declining, 
however, to engage a state-room, mindful of the exceed- 
ing closeness of that in which we suffered on our out- 
ward voyage. The embarkation was made, like that 
from Venice, at the mysterious hour of midnight ; and 
we, coming on board at half past ten, secured such sofa 
and easy-chair privileges as moved the wrath of a high- 



254 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

talking German party who came at the last moment, and 
shouted for a quarter of an hour the assertion that his 
Damen were fully equal, if not superior, to any other 
Damen on board the steamer, and that if the other Da- 
men had places, his surely ought much more to have 
them. The cameriere merely shrugged his shoulders, 
and we failed to be convinced that our first duty would 
be to vacate our limited accommodations, and stand at 
large for the benefit of these or any other virgins of the 
tardy and oily description. The blatant champion 
thereon took himself and his Damen up stairs. We 
reserved to ourselves the good intention of sharing our 
advantages with them at a later period, when the pas- 
sage of the present acerbity should make intercourse 
possible. The cabin soon became insufferably hot and 
close. After various ineffectual attempts at repose, in 
a cramped position on the sofa, with a shawl bundle for 
a pillow, I went on deck, where I at least found fresh 
air and darkness, the blazing lamp in the cabin being 
enough, of itself, to banish sleep. Every available spot 
here was occupied by groups or single figures, whose 
tout ensemble, what with the darkness and their drap- 
ing, constituted a very respectable gallery of figures, 
much resembling the conspirators in Ernani, or Mme. 
Tussaud's Chamber of Horrors, in the absence of the 
illuminating medium. I unconsciously seated myself 
on one sleeping figure, which kicked and cried, O ! 
With difficulty I found a narrow vacancy on one of the 
side benches, after occupation of which I wrapped my 
shawl about me, and gave up to the situation. 
" For we were tired, my back and I." 



FRAGMENTS. 255 

Seasick women sobbed and gasped around me, not 
having, as we, graduated in the great college of ocean 
passage. The night was very black. Presently a form 
nestled at my right. It was the elder neophyte, dis- 
gusted with the cabin, and willing to be anywhere else. 
The moon rose late, a de-crescent. The whole time 
was amphibious, neither sleeping nor waking, neither 
day nor night. Suddenly, a perceptible chill seized 
upon us ; a little later the black sky grew gray, and the 
series of groups that filled the deck were all revealed, 
like hidden motives in the light of some new doctrine. 
The sunrise was showery, and attended by a rainbow. 
The people bestirred themselves, stretched their be- 
numbed limbs, and shook their tumbled garments into 
shape. Black coffee could now be had for ten sous a 
cup, and cafe au lait for twenty, with a crust of bread 
which defied gnawing. The diary says, " L. and I 
grew quite tearful as we saw beautiful Venice come out 
of the water, just as we had seen her disappear. At the 
health station we were fumigated with chloride of lime 
— an unpleasant and useless process. We arrived op- 
posite the Piazzetta at half past seven A. M. The cap- 
tain was kind in helping us to find our effects and to 
get off. The gondoliers asked five francs for bringing 
us to our lodgings, and got them. The Barbiers could 
not receive us at our former snug abode, but monsieur 
went round to show us some rooms in Palazzo Gam- 
baro, which he offered for seven francs fer diem. We 
were glad to take them. Went to Florian's cafe for 
breakfast, visited San Marco, and then proceeded to 



256 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

install ourselves in our new lodging. Ordered a dinner 
for six francs, which proved abundant. Took a long 
sleep, — from one to four P. M., — having only dozed a 
little during the night. Our lodgings are very roomy 
and pleasant — two large rooms well furnished, and 
two smaller ones. We expect to enjoy many things 
here, and all the more because we now know something 
of what is to be seen." 

This expectation was fully realized during the week 
that followed, although the meagre entries of the diary 
give little assistance in recalling the strict outlines of 
the brilliant picture. It was now height of season in 
Venice. The grand canal was brilliant, every evening, 
with gondolas, and gondoliers in costumes. Now we 
admired full suits of white, with scarlet sashes, trimmed 
with gold fringe, now gray and blue, edged with silver. 
Now an ugly jockey costume, got up by some Anglo- 
maniac, insulted the Italian beau-ideal, and, indeed, 
every other. For the short coat and heavy clothes, 
suited at once to the saddle and the English climate, 
were utterly unsuited to the action of rowing, as well 
as to the full bloom of an Italian summer. I cannot 
help remarking upon this unsightly livery, because it 
was an eyesore, and because it was obviously considered 
by its proprietor as a brilliant success. In stylish gon- 
dolas, the rowers are two in number, and always dressed 
in livery. The fashionables, in height of millinery bliss, 
float up and down the grand canal, until it is time for 
the rendezvous on the Piazza. As you pass the palaces, 
you often see the gondola in waiting below, while in a 



FRAGMENTS. 257 

balcony or arched window above, the fresh, smiling 
faces make their bright picture ; and the domestic stands 
draped in the white opera-cloaks or bournooses. And I 
remember a hundred little nonsensical songs about this 
very passage in Venetian life. 

" Prent'e la gondoletta, 
Tutt'e serena il mar, 
Ninetta, mia diletta, 
Vieni solcar il mar 
II marinar, che gioja — che gioja il marinar ! " 

Which I translate into English equivalency as follows : — 

The two-in-hand is waiting, 

The groom is in his boots ; 
The lover 's fondly prating, 

The lady's humor suits : 
Susanna! Susanna! 

What joy to flog the brutes ! 
What joy, what joy in driving! 
What joy, what joj to drive ! 

Like all other poetical visions, these, once seen, speedily 
become matters of course. Still, we found always a 
fairy element in the " Gita in gondolettar Our gon- 
dolier had always a weird charm in our eyes. He 
seemed almost a feudal retainer, a servant for life or 
death. His shrewd glance showed that he was not 
easily to be astonished. He could tip over an obnox- 
ious person in the dark, stab at a street corner, carry the 
most audacious of letters, and deliver the contraband 
answer under the very nose of high-snuffing authority. 

17 



258 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

Nought of all this did we desire of him ; in fact, noth- 
ing but safe conduct and moderate charges. Yet we 
admired his mysterious talents, and wondered in what 
unwritten novels he might have figured. For, indeed, 
the watery streets of Venice, no less than her gondoliers, 
suggest the idea of romantic and desperate adventure. 
What balconies from which to throw a rival, dead or 
alive ! What silent, know-nothing waters to receive 
him ! What clever assistants to aid and abet ! 

But enough of the evening row, which ends at the 
Piazzetta. Here you dismiss your man-at-oars, naming 
the hour at which you shall require his presence, he 
being meanwhile at liberty to sleep in his gondola, or 
to leave it in charge with a friend, and to follow you to 
the Piazza, where you will amuse yourself after your 
fashion, he after his. Here the banners are floating, 
the lights glancing, the band stormily performing. Flo- 
rian's cafe is represented by a crowd of well-dressed 
people sitting in the open air, with the appliances of 
chair and table covered by their voluminous draperies. 
If you arrive late, you may wait some time before a 
table, fourteen inches by ten, is vouchsafed to you. 
Ices are very good, very cheap, and very small. Tea 
and bread and butter are excellent. While you wait 
and while you feast, a succession of venders endeavor 
to impose upon you every small article which the streets 
of Venice show for sale. Shoes, slippers, alabaster 
work, shell work, tin gondolas concealing inkstands, 
nets, bracelets, necklaces, — all these things are offered 
to you in succession, together with allumettes, cigars, 






FRAGMENTS. 259 



journals, and caramels, or candied fruits strung upon 
straws. If you are mild in your discouragement of 
these venders, they will fasten upon you like other 
vermin, and refuse to depart until they shall have drawn 
the last drop of your change. I found a brisk charge 
necessary, with appeals to Flovian's g-arp on, after whose 
interference, life on the Piazza became practicable. 

To the mere enjoyment of good victuals, with squab- 
bles intervening, may be superadded the perception of 
fashionable life, as it goes on in these regions. When 
your eyes have taken the standard of light of the Piazza, 
you recognize in some of the groups about you persons 
whom you have seen, either in the balcony or in the 
gondola. Here are two young women whom I saw 
emerge from a narrow passage, this evening, rowed by 
a fine-looking servant, who stood bareheaded, and one 
other. They have diamond earrings, fashionable bon- 
nets, and dresses dripping from a baptism of beads. 
One by one a group of young men, probably of the 
first water, forms about them. One of the ladies is 
handsome and quiet, the other plain and voluble. The 
latter becomes perforce the prominent figure in what 
goes on, which indeed amounts to nothing worth repeat- 
ing. These were on my right. On my left soon ap- 
peared a lady of a certain age, with " world " written 
in large letters all over her countenance. She chape- 
rons a daughter, got up with hair a V Anglaise, whose 
pantomimic countenance suggests that she has been 
drilled by an English governess with papa, prunes, 
prism, or some equivalent gymnastic. When addressed, 



260 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

she looks down into her fan, and rolls her eyes as if she 
saw her face in it. And lady friends come up : " Ah, 
marchesa ! ah, signora contessa ! " and the young bloods, 
hat in hand. So here we are, really, on the borders of 
high life, without intending it. And the baroness intro- 
duces a female relative — una sorella maritata — who 
has been handsome, and whose smile seems accustomed 
to fold the cloak of her beauty around the poverty of 
her character. And there is coffee, and there come 
ices. The ladies sip and gossip, the beaux come and 
go, talking of intended villegglaturas ; for the greatest 
social illustration for an Italian is that of travel. A 
third group immediately in front of us shows a young 
lady in an advanced stage of ambition, attired in a 
conspicuous tone, accompanied by quieter female rela- 
tives and a young boy. She regards with envious eyes 
the two popular associations on my right and left. She 
is dying to be noticed, and does not know how to man- 
age it. And while I take note of these and other vani- 
ties, beggars whine for pence, or insist upon carrying 
off our superfluous bread or cake, for which, indeed, we 
must pay ; but they eat the bread before your eyes with 
such evident relish that you are satisfied. 

By and by this palls upon you. You have seen and 
heard enough. The society to which you belong is over 
the water. Here your heart finds no place ; and from 
the crowd of strangers even your lodging and quiet bed 
seem a refuge. So you settle with Florian's gargon, 
close your account with all beggars for the night, wan- 
der to the Piazzetta, and cry, " Bastiano ! " and he of 



FRAGMENTS. 26 1 

the mysterious intelligence sooner or later responds. 
You give a penny to the crab, — the man who super- 
fluously holds the boat while you get in, — and are at 
home after a brief dream of smooth motion under a 
starry sky. And in this way end all midsummer days 
in Venice. Not so smooth, however, is your climbing 
of three flights of stone stairs in the dark, with thump- 
ing and bumping. But you are up at last, and Gianet- 
ta — the shrewd maid — receives you with a candle-end. 
Frugal orders for breakfast, and to rest, with the cherubs 
of the mantel-piece watching over you. 

For over the said mantel-piece, two fair, fat babes, 
modelled in flat-relief, playfully contended for the mas- 
tery, their laughing faces near together, their swinging 
heels wide apart, as the festoon required. Elsewhere 
in the same relief were arabesques with birds and flow- 
ers. This bedroom of ours has been a room of state in 
its day. A passage-way and dressing-room have been 
taken from its stately proportions, and still it remains 
very spacious for our pretensions. Our salon is larger 
still, and largely mirrored. Two of its windows give 
upon a leafy garden, whose tree-tops lie nearer to us 
than to their owners. Its furniture has been hastily 
thrown together, and is mostly composed of odds and 
ends. But one of its pieces moves our admiration. It 
is a toilet table, enclosing a complete set of utensils in 
the finest Venetian glass — basins, ewers, toilet bottles 
and glasses, and the little boxes for soap and powder, 
all cut after the finest pattern. This toilet was made 
for a loyal personage, a queen of something, whose 



262 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

effects somehow seem to have been sold at auction in 
these parts. Another relic of her we discover in a 
bureau entirely incrusted with mother-of-pearl, an arti- 
cle that makes one's mouth water, if one has any mouth, 
which all men, like all horses, have not. The doors 
which divide our sitting from our sleeping room are at 
once objects of wonder and of fear to us. Their size 
is monstrous, and each of them hangs, or rather clings, 
by the upper hinge, the lower being dismounted. These 
doors are left all day at a conciliatory angle between 
closing and opening. We fear their falling on our 
heads whenever we approach them. We hear vaguely 
of some one who shall come to put them in order ; but 
he never appears. Our own veteran, arriving at last, 
sets this right in as summary a manner as he has dealt 
with other nuisances. For the veteran, worn with 
travel, does arrive from Greece one morning, rowing 
up to our palace just as we have stepped from it to 
meet our gondola. He has a tale to tell like the wan- 
derings of Ulysses. But between this event and those 
that precede it, the diary shows the following important 
entry : — 

Thursday, Aug. 1. — To Malamocco this A. M., 
with three rowers — our own, and two others, who re- 
ceived one florin between them. The row, both in 
going and returning, was delightful. Arrived at Mala- 
mocco, the men demanded one franc for breakfast, and 
disappeared within the shades of the Osteria. This is 
a small settlement at the very entrance of the lagoons. 
It was strongly fortified by the Austrians. The heat, 






FRAGMENTS. * 263 



however, did not permit us to inspect the fortifications. 
We saw little of interest, but visited the church and a 
peasant's house. One of the daughters was engaged 
in stringing beads for sale. The beads were in a tray, 
and she plunged into them a bunch of wire needles 
some six inches in length, each carrying its slender 
thread. The merchant, she said, came weekly to 
bring the beads, and to take away those ready strung 
for the market. " To earn a penny, signora," said the 
mother, a substantial-looking person, wearing large 
gold earrings. The houses here looked very comfort- 
able for people of the plain sort. The men seemed to 
be mostly away, whether engaged in fishing, or follow- 
ing the sea to foreign parts. On our way back we 
stopped at San Clementi, an ancient church upon a 
little island, now undergoing repairs. Within the 
church we found a marble tabernacle with solid walls, 
built behind the high altar. It may have been forty 
feet in length by twenty in breadth, and twelve or more 
feet in height. A massive door of bronze gave entrance 
to this huge strong-box, which was formerly used as a 
prison for refractory priests. We found the interior 
divided into two compartments. The larger of these 
was fitted up as a chapel ; the smaller had served as the 
cell of confinement. The altar was erected at the parti- 
tion which separated the two, and a grating inserted 
behind the altar figure allowed the prisoner the benefit 
of the religious services carried on in the chapel. The 
dreariness of this little prison can scarcely be described. 
No light had it, unless that of a lamp was allowed. A 



264 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

church within a church, and within the inner church a 
place of torment ! This arrangement seemed to violate 
even the Catholic immunity of sanctuary. Think of the 
unfortunate shut up within on a feast day, when faint 
sounds of outward jubilee might penetrate the marble 
walls, and heighten his pain by its contrast with the 
general joyous thrill of life. Think of the cheerless 
mass or vespers vouchsafed to him, — no friendly face, 
no brother voice, to sweeten worship. And if he con- 
tinued recalcitrant, how convenient was this isolation 
for the final disposition to be made of him ! JDe p7'o- 
fundis clamavit, doubtless, and the church did not 
know that God could hear him. 

The diar} 7 does not record our second visit to the 
x\rmenian convent, which took place in these days. I 
do not even find in its irregular columns any mention 
of a franc which I am sure I paid to the porter, and 
which, I faintly hope, has been put to my credit else- 
where. Despite this absence of pieces justificatives, 
the visit still remains so freshly in my memory that I 
may venture to speak of it. The elder neophyte not 
having been with us before in Venice, the convent was 
new ground to her. We who had already seen it felt 
much more at home on the occasion of our second visit 
than of our first. For Padre Giacomo had answered our 
invasion by a friendly call ; and did we not now know 
him to be a most genial and hospitable person? Had 
we not, moreover, made ourselves familiar with his 
religion, on our late voyage, by frequent converse with 
two priests of his profession ? Did I not possess Fathei 



FRAGMENTS. 265 

Michel's views concerning the de7nonio, as well as his 
version of the Book of Job? And of Pere Isaak did I 
not know the polished, uncommunicative side which 
covered his intimate convictions, whatever they may 
have been? The Armenian ladies, too, — had they not 
made me free of the guild? One of them had shown 
me her prayer-book. The other, being but fifteen years 
of age, had no prayer-book. So, with an assured step, 
we entered the sacred parlor, and demanded news of 
Padre Giacomo, and of his monkey. And the father 
came, smiling a little better than before, but with a 
sweet Oriental gravity. And he showed us again the 
library, and hall, and chapel, with the refectory, from 
whose cruel pulpit one brother is set to read while 
the others feast. We saw again the printing presses, 
worked by hand. And in the sacristy he commanded 
two of the younger brethren to bring the chiefest em- 
broidered garments, reserved for high occasions, judg- 
ing of us unjustly by our sex. And these satin and 
velvet wonders were, indeed, embossed with lambs, and 
birds, and flowers, in needlework of silver and gold, 
and of various colors, meet for the necks of them that 
divide the spoil. And we saw also a very fine mummy, 
as black, and dried, and wizened, as any old Pharaoh 
could be. A splendid bead covering lay over him, in 
open rows of blue and white, with hieroglyphic-looking 
men in black and yellow. This covering had been 
lately cleaned and repaired at the glass-works of Mu- 
rano, as Padre Giacomo recounted with pride.- He 
showed us in the old part of the work some curious 



266 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

double beads, which Venice itself, he said, was unable 
to imitate. The colors were as fresh and clear as if the 
mummy had clothed himself from the last fancy fair, 
with a description of afghan well suited to the Egyptian 
climate. 

Having done justice to this human preserve, the 
padre now regaled us with a preparation of rose 
leaves embalmed in sugar. He also bestowed upon 
us one of the convent publications, a tolerable copy of 
verses composed on the spot itself by the late Louis of 
Bavaria, celebrating its calm and retirement. I myself 
could have responded to the royal suspiria with one 

distich. 

" Here no people comes to beg thee, 
Here no Lola comes to plague thee." 

As we passed from the building to the garden, the 
wicked monkey, chained and lying in wait, sprang at 
my hat, and, snatching my lilac veil, bore it off with 
a flying leap of animal grace and malice. Padre 
Giacomo anxiously apologized for his pet's misconduct, 
which was certainly surprising. But the monkey's edu- 
cation, as every one knows, is dependent, not upon 
precept, but upon example, and Padre Giacomo's ex- 
ample, to the monkey, was only a negative. We 
parted from our cloistered friend, sincerely desiring, 
if not hoping, to see him again. 

Of our last day in fairest Venice the diary gives this 
meagre account : — 

Sunday, August 4. Early to Piazza, where we 
encountered the Bishop of Rhode Island. At San 



FRAGMENTS. 267 

Marco's, visited Luccati's beautiful mosaics in the sac- 
risty. The three figures over the door are especially 
fine — Madonna in the middle, and a saint on either 
side. A colossal cross adorns the ceiling, and the wall 
on one side is occupied by figures of twelve proph- 
ets ; on the other, by the twelve disciples. The cross 
almost seems to bloom with beautiful devices. Luccati 
was imprisoned, they say, in the Piombi. 

To the Italian Protestant service, held in a good hall 
in the neighborhood of the Church of San Giovanni e 
Paolo. The hall was densely crowded. I found no 
seat, and barely room to stand. The audience seemed 
a mixed one, so far as worldly position goes, but was 
entirely respectable in aspect and demeanor, the mascu- 
line element largely predominating. Signor Comba, a 
young man, is quite eloquent and taking. He delivers 
himself clearly, and with energy. He criticised at some 
length the unchristian doctrines of the Romish church 
— this is part of his work. 

The service ended, I passed into the Church of San 
Giovanni e Paolo, and enjoyed my visit unusually. 
The vivid, light of the day and hour made many of 
the monuments appear new to me. The doges in this, 
as in other churches, are stowed away on shelves, like 
mummies. Found a monument to Doge Sterno, dated 
early in the fifteenth century, and beside it the erHgy of a 
youth designated as Aloysius Trevisano, set. 23, deeply re- 
gretted, and commemorated for his attainments in Greek, 
Latin, and philosophy. The figure is recumbent, the face 
of a high and refined character, with the unmistakable 



268 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE, 






charm of youth impressed upon it. The date is also of 
the fifteen century. From the church to the sacristy, to 
take a last look at the two pictures, Titian's Death of 
St. Peter, martyr, and a fine Madonna of Gian Bellini. 
The Titian was glorious to-day. It has great life and 
action. The Dominican in the foreground, who has his 
arm raised as if appealing to heaven and earth against 
the barbarous act, seems to have communicated a touch 
of his passion to the two cherubs above,, who bear the 
martyr palm. They are stormy little cherubs, and 
seem in haste to bring in sight the recompense of so 
much suffering. 

Of the Protestant preaching I will once more and 
finally say, that it is a genuine missionary work, and 
commend it to the good wishes and good offices of 
those whose benefactions do not fear to cross the ocean. 
May it permanently thrive and prosper. 

Of the pictures I can only say, that I doubly congrat- 
ulate myself on having paid them my last homage before 
leaving Titian's lovely city. For, not long after, a cruel 
fire broke out in or near that sacristy, precious with 
carvings in wood and marble bas-reliefs ; and all the 
treasures were destroyed, including the two pictures, 
only temporarily bestowed there, and many square 
yards of multitude by Tintoretto, bearing, as usual, 
his own portrait in a sly corner, representative, no 
doubt, of his wish to watch the effect of his master- 
pieces upon humanity at large. The Madonna by 
Bellini was a charming picture, but the St. Peter is 
a loss that concerns the world. The saint, one hopes, 



FRAGMENTS. 269 

has been comfortable in Paradise these many years. 
But the artist? What Paradise would console him for 
the burning of one of his chefs-d'oeuvre? He would be 
like Rachel weeping for her children, which reminds 
me that ideal parentage is of no sex. The artist, the 
poet, the reformer, are father and mother, all in one. 

We left Venice, the diary tells me, on the 5th of 
August, with what regret we need not say. The same 
venerable authority records a grave disagreement with 
the custom-house officers, of whose ministrations we 
had received no previous warning. So, two very mod- 
est pieces of dress goods, delayed in the making, caused 
me to be branded as a contrabandist a, with a fine, and 
record to my discredit. I confess to some indecorous 
manifestations of displeasure at these circumstances. 
The truth is, forewarned is forearmed. Venice is a 
free port, and the traveller who leaves her by railroad 
for the first time may not be aware of the strict account 
to which he will be held for every little indulgence in 
Venetian traffic. Now, to have the spoons presented 
to you in the house, and to be arrested as a thief when 
you would pass the door, is a grievous ending to a hos- 
pitable beginning. So it came to pass that I anathema- 
tized beautiful Venice as I departed, gathering up the 
broken fragments of my peace, past diamond cement. 
But here, in trunk-upsetting Boston, I bethink me, and 
confess. I was wrong, utterly wrong, O custom-house 
officers, when I frowned and stormed at you, contend- 
ing inch by inch and phrase by phrase. You were 
neither unjust nor uncivil, although I was both. Only 



270 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

I still attest and obsecrate to the fact that I did not 
intend to smuggle, and entered your jealous domain 
with no sense of contraband about me. Yet to such 
wrath did your perquisitions bring me, that the angry 
thoughts slackened only at Verona, where the tombs of 
the Scaligers and the rounds of the amphitheatre com- 
pelled me to quiet small distempers with great thoughts. 
At railroad speed, however, we visited these rare 
monuments. Can Grande and his horse looked flat 
and heavy from their eminence. We admired the beau- 
tiful iron screen of one of the tombs, hammer-wrought, 
and flexible as a shirt of mail. And we remembered 
Dante, paid two francs to the guardian of the enclosure, 
and drove away. The afternoon's journey whirled us 
past some strange antique towns, with walls and battle- 
ments, and at night we were in Bolsena, Germanice 
Bottsen. And when we asked the hotel maid if she 
had ever been in Verona, she replied, " O, no ; that is 
in Italy." And so we knew that we were not. 

Flying Footsteps. 

The journey which we now commenced was too 
rapid to allow of more than the briefest record of its 
route. The breathlessness of haste, and the number of 
things to be seen and visited, left no time for writing up 
on the subjects suggested by the meagre notes of the 
diary. To the latter, therefore, I am forced to betake 
myself, piecing its fragmentary statements, where I can 
do so, from memory. 

Tuesday, August 6. Started with vetturino for Inns- 



FLYING FOOTSTEPS. 27 1 

pruck, via Bronner pass. A splendid day's journey. 
Stopped to dine at a pretty village, — name forgotten, — at 
whose principal inn a smart, bustling maid-servant in cos- 
tume, very clean and civil, came to the carriage, helped 
us to alight, and carried our travelling bags up stairs to a 
parlor with a stout bed in it, upon which our chief threw 
himself and slept until the cutlets were ready. This 
old-fashioned zeal and civility were pleasant to con- 
template once more, probably for the last time. For a 
railroad has been built over the Brenner pass, the which 
will go into operation next week. Then will these 
pleasant manners insensibly fade away, with the up-to- 
time curtness of modern travel. The porter who helps 
you to carry your hand luggage from the car to the de- 
pot will sternly demand his fee for that laborious ser- 
vice. All officials will grow as reticent of doing you 
the smallest pleasure as if civility were a contraband 
of war. And it does indeed become so, for the rail- 
road develops the antagonisms of trade. Its flaming 
sword allows of no wanderings in wayside Paradises. 
Its steam trumpet shrieks in your ear the lesson that 
the straight line is the shortest distance between two 
points. It swallows you at one point and vomits you 
at another, w 7 ith extreme risk of your life between. 
And it vulgarizes every place that it touches. The 
mixed stir and quiet of the little town become concen- 
trated into fixed crises of excitement. For the postil- 
ion's horn and whip, and the pleasant rattling of the 
coming and going post-chaise, you will have, three or 
four times in the day, those shrill bars whose infernal 



272 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

symphony is mercifully allowed to proceed no farther ; 
and a cross and steaming crowd ; and a cool and su- 
percilious few in the first or second class wart-saal ; 
and then a dull and dead quiet in the little town, as if 
steam and stir came and went together, and left nothing 
behind them. 

The buxom maid-servant mourned over the impend- 
ing ruin of the small tavern business, as she showed us 
the curious arrangements of the old house. It had for- 
merly been a convent of nuns, and was very solidly 
put together. The back windows commanded a lovely 
view of the mountains. In the garden we found a 
pleasant open house, no doubt formerly a place for de- 
vout assemblages and meditations, but now chiefly de- 
voted to the consumption of beer. 

After dinner we walked to the church near by, and 
looked at the curious iron crosses and small mural tab- 
lets which marked the final resting-place of the village 
worthies. Their petty offices and cherished distinctions 
were all preserved here. All of them had received the 
" holy death sacrament," and had started on the myste- 
rious voyage in good hope. Through this whole extent 
of country, the crucifixes by the w r ayside w T ere numer- 
ous. Resuming our journey, we reached Mittelwald, a 
picturesque hamlet, composed of a small church, a 
stream, a bridge, and a short string of houses. Here 
we defeated the future machinations of all officers of 
customs, by causing the two offending dress-patterns, 
already twice paid for, and treated at length in various 
printed and written documents, to be cut into breadths, 



FLYING FOOTSTEPS. 273 

which we hastily managed to sew up, reserving their 
fuller treatment for the purlieus of civilized life. 

Our two days' drive over the mountains was refresh- 
ing and most charming. Our vetturino was not less 
despondent than the maid-servant before alluded to. In 
our progress we were much in sight of the scarcely 
completed railroad, whose locomotive and working cars 
constantly appeared and disappeared before us, plunging 
into the numerous tunnels that defeat the designs of 
the mountain fortresses, and mocking our slow progress, 
as the money-getting train of success and sensation 
mocks the tedious steps of learning and the painful 
elaboration of art. 

u This is my last journey," said the vetturino ; " the 
railway opens on Monday of next week." 

" What will you do thereafter?" I inquired. 

" Sell all out, and go to work as I can," he answered ; 
adding, however, " In case you should intend going as 
far as Munich by carriage, I beg to be honored," — of 
which the Yankee rendering would be, " I shouldn't 
mind putting you through." 

This, however, was hardly to be thought of, and at 
Innspruck we took leave of this honest and polite man, 
whose species must soon become extinct, whether he 
survive or no. Here recommenced for us the prosaic 
chapter of the railroad. Our route, however, for a 
good part of the way, lay within sight of the mountains. 
The depots at which we took fiery breath were in the 
style of Swiss chalets, quite ornamental in themselves, 
and further graced by vines and flowers. The travellers 
18 



274 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

we encountered were not commonplacely cosmopolite. 
The young women were often in Tyrolese costume, 
wearing gilt tassels on their broad, black felt hats. We 
encountered parties of archers going to attend shooting 
matches, attired in picturesque uniforms of green and 
gold. At the depots, too, we encountered a new medi- 
um of enlivenment. We were now in a land of beer, 
and foaming glasses were offered to us in the cars, and 
at the railway buffets. Mild and cheerful we found this 
Bavarian beverage, — less verse-inspiring than wine, — 
and valuable as tending to reduce the number of poets 
who tease the world by putting all its lessons into 
rhymes, chimes, and jingles. Whatever we ourselves 
may have done, it is certain that our companions of both 
sexes embraced these frequent opportunities of refresh- 
ment, and that the color in their cheeks and the tone 
of their good-natured laughter were heightened by the 
same. One of these, a young maiden, told us how she 
had climbed the mountain during four hours of the 
day before, visiting the huts of the cowherds, who, dur- 
ing summer, pasture their cows high up on the green 
slopes. The existence of these people she described 
as hard and solitary in the extreme. The rich butter 
and cheese they make are all for the market. They them- 
selves eat only what they cannot sell, according to the 
rule whereby small farmers live and thrive in all lands. 
The young girl wore in her hat a bunch of the blossom 
called edelweiss, which she had brought from her lofty 
wanderings. It is held in great esteem here, and is of- 
ten offered for sale. 



MUNICH. 275 

In the afternoon we turned our back upon the moun- 
tains. A flat land lay before us, green and well tilled. 
And long before sunset we saw the spires of Munich, 
and the lifted arm of the great statue of Bavaria. Our 
arrival was prosperous, and through the streets of the 
handsome modern city we attained the quiet of an upper 
chamber in a hotel filled with Americans. 

Munich. 

Our two days in Munich were characterized by the 
most laborious sight-seeing. A week, even in our rapid 
scale of travelling, would not have been too much for 
this gorgeous city. We gave what we had, and cannot 
give a good account of it. 

My first visit was to the Pinakethek, which I had thor- 
oughly explored some twenty-three years earlier, when 
the galleries of Italy and the Louvre were unknown to 
me. Coming now quite freshly from Venice, with 
Rome and Florence still recent in my experience, I 
found the Munich gallery less grandiose than my former 
remembrance had made it. The diary says, " The Ru- 
benses are the best feature. I note also two fine heads 
by Rembrandt, and a first-rate Paris Bordone — a female 
head with golden hair and dark-red dress ; four peas- 
ant pictures by Murillo, excellent in their kind, quite fa- 
miliar through copies and engravings ; some of the 
best Albert Diirers. The Italian pictures not all gen- 
uine. None of the Raphaels, I should say, would be 
accepted as such in Italy. The Fra Angelicos not good. 
Two good Andrea del Sartos ; a Leonardo da Vinci, 



276 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

which seems to me a little caricatured; a room full of 
Vander Wertes, very smooth and finely finished ; many 
Vandycks, scarcely first rate." 

The afternoon of this day we devoted to the Glypto- 
thek, or gallery of sculpture. Here our first objects 
of interest were the yEginetan marbles, whose vacant 
places we had so recently seen on the breezy height of 
the temple from which they were taken. 

We found these rough, and attesting a period of art 
far more remote than that of the Elgin marbles. They 
are arranged in the order in which they stood before the 
pediment of the temple, a standing figure of Minerva 
in the middle, the other figures tapering off on either 
side, and ending with two seated warriors, the feet of 
either turned towards the outer angle of his side of the 
pediment. All seemed to have belonged to a dispensa- 
tion of ugliness ; they reminded us of some of the 
Etruscan sculptures. 

This gallery possesses a famous torso called the 
Ilioneus, concerning which Mrs. Jamieson rhapso- 
dizes somewhat in her Munich book. The Barberini 
Faun, too, is among its trearures. As my readers may 
not be acquainted with the artistic antecedents of this 
statue, I will subjoin for their benefit the following 
narration, which I abridge from the " Ricordi " of the 
Marquis Massimo d' Azeglio, recently published. 

At the time of the French domination in Italy, the 
Roman nobles were subjected to the levying of heavy 
contributions. The inconvenience of these requisitions 
often taxed the resources of the wealthiest families, and 



MUNICH. 



277 



led to the sale of furniture, jewels, and the multifarious 
denomination of articles classed together as objets d'art. 
Among others, the Barberini family, in their palace at 
the Quattro Fontane, exposed for sale various antiquit- 
ties, and especially the torso of a male figure, of Greek 
execution and in Pentelican marble, a relic of the palmy 
days of Hellenic art. 

A certain sculptor, Cavalier Pacetti, purchased this 
last fragment, sold at auction for the sum of seven or 
eight hundred dollars. The arms and legs were wholly 
wanting — the narrator is uncertain as to the head. 
Pacetti had made this purchase with the view of restor- 
ing the mutilated statue to entireness. He proceeded to 
model for himself the parts that were wanting, and in 
time produced the sleeping figure known as the Bar- 
berini Faun. 

This work was esteemed a great success. Besides the 
value of its long and uncertain labor must be mentioned 
the difficulty of matching the original marble. To ef- 
fect this the artist was obliged to purchase and destroy 
another Greek statue, of less merit, whose marble sup- 
plied the material for the restoration. 

In the mean time the Napoleonic era had passed 
away ; the pope had returned to Rome. Foreigners from 
all parts now flocked to the Eternal City, and to one 
of these Pacetti sold his work for many thousands of 
dollars. Before it could be packed and delivered, how- 
ever, a governmental veto annulled the. sale, directing 
the artist to restore the statue to the Barberini family, 
under the plea of its being subject to a jidei commissa 1 



278 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE, 

and offering him the sum of money expended by him in 
the first purchase, together with such further compensa- 
tion for his labor and materials as a committee of ex- 
perts should award. 

The unfortunate Pacetti resisted this injustice to the 
extent of his ability. He demonstrated the sale of the 
torso to have been made without reserve, the money for 
its purchase to have been raised by him with considera- 
ble effort. The further expense of the secondary statue 
was a heavy item. As an artist, he could not allow any 
one but himself to set a price upon his work. 

In spite of these arguments, the Barberinis, remem- 
bering that possession is nine points of the law, man- 
aged to confiscate the statue by armed force. Before this 
last measure, however, a mandate informed the artist 
that the pitiful sum offered to him in exchange (not in 
compensation) for his work, had been placed in the 
bank, subject to his order, and that from this sum a 
steady discount would mark every day of his delay to 
close with the shameful bargain. 

Pacetti now fell ill with a bilious fever, the result of 
this bitter disappointment. His recovery was only par- 
tial, and his death soon followed. His sons commenced 
and continued a suit against the Barberini family. They 
obtained a favorable judgment, but did not obtain their 
property, which the Barberinis sold to the King of 
Bavaria. 

I have thought it worth while to quote this history of 
a world-renowned work of art. I do not know that a 
more perfect and successful combination of modern with 



MUNICH. 279 

ancient art exists than that achieved in this Munich 
Faun. The mutilated honor of the Barberini name is, 
we should fear, beyond restoration by any artist. 

The Glyptothek closed much too soon for us. With 
the exception of the sculptures just enumerated, it pos- 
sesses nothing that can compete in interest with the 
noted Italian galleries, or perhaps with the Louvre. 
But the few valuables that it has are first rate of their 
kind, and it contains many duplicates of well-known 
subjects. The building and arrangements are very ele- 
gant, and seem to cast a certain pathos over the follies 
of the old king, to whom it owes its origin, making one 
more sorry than angry that one who knew the Graces so 
well should not have fraternized more with the Virtues. 
The ./Eginetan Minerva is stern and hideous, how- 
ever, and may have exercised an unfortunate influence 
over her protege. 

We closed the labors of this day by visiting the colos- 
sal statue of Bavaria, who, with a strange hospitality, 
throws open her skull to the public. The external 
effect of the figure is not grandiose, and the sudden 
slope of the ground in front makes it very difficult to 
get a good view of it. With the help of a lamp, and in 
consideration of a small fee, we ascended the spinal 
column, and made ourselves comfortable within the 
sacred precincts of phrenology. The circulation, how- 
ever, soon became so rapid as to produce a pressure at 
the base of the brain. Calling to the guardian below 
to impede for the moment all further ascent, we flowed 
down, and the congestion was relieved. Of this statue 



280 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

an artist once said to us, " As for such a thing as the 
Munich Bavaria, the bigger it is, the smaller it is" — 
a saying not unintelligible to those who have seen it. 

Our remaining day we devoted, in the first place, to 
the new Pinakothek. Here we saw a large picture, by 
Kaulbach, representing the fall of Jerusalem. Although 
full of historical and artistic interest, it seemed to me 
less individual and remarkable than his cartoons. A 
series of small pictures by the same artist appeared 
quite unworthy of his great powers and reputation. 
They were exceedingly well executed, certainly, but 
poorly conceived, representing matters merely personal 
to artistic and other society in Munich, and of little 
value to the world at large. 

Here was also a holy family by Overbeck, closely 
imitated from Raphael. The diary speaks vaguely of 
" many interesting pictures, the religious ones the poor- 
est." I remember that we greatly regretted the limita- 
tion of our time in visiting this gallery. In the vestibule 
of the building we were shown a splendid Bavaria, in 
a triumphal car, driving four lions abreast, the work of 
Schwanthaler. This noble design so far exists only 
in plaster ; one would wish to see it in fine Munich 
bronze. Apropos of which I must mention, but cannot 
describe, a visit to the celebrated foundery in which 
many of the best modern statues have been cast. Here 
were Crawford's noble works ; here the more recent 
compositions of Rogers, Miss Stebbins, and Miss 
Ilosmer. An American naturally first seeks acquaint- 
ance here with the works of his countrymen. He 



MUNICH. 28l 

finds them in distinguished company. The foundery 
keeps a plaster cast of each of its models, and the 
ghosts of our heroes appear with tie-wig princes and 
generals of other times, as also with poets and littera- 
teurs. The group of Goethe and Schiller, crowned 
and hand in hand, suggests one of the noblest of lite- 
rary reminiscences — that of the devoted and genuine 
friendship of two most eminent authors, within the nar- 
row limits of one small society. The entireness and 
sincerity of each in his own department of art alone 
made this possible. He who dares to be himself, and 
to work out his own ideal, fears no other, however 
praised and distinguished. 

We visited the new and old palaces in company with 
a small mob of travellers of all nations, whose disorderly 
tendencies were restrained by the palace clcerones. 
These worthies did the honors of the place, told the 
stories, and kept the company together. In the new 
palace we were shown the frescos, the hall of the battle- 
pieces, the famous gallery of beauties, and the throne- 
room, whose whole length is adorned with life-size 
statues of royal and ducal Bavarian ancestors in gilded 
bronze. The throne is a great gilded chair, cushioned 
with crimson velvet, the seat adorned with a huge L 
in gold embroidery. 

Of the gallery mentioned just before, I must say that 
its portraits are those of society belles, not of artist 
beauties. However handsome, therefore, they may 
have been in their ball and court dresses, there is some- 
thing conventional and unlovely in their toute ensem- 



282 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

ble, as a collection of female heads. I would agree 
to find artists who should make better pictures from 
women of the people, taken in their ordinary costume, 
and with the freedom of common life in their actions 
and expressions. An intangible armor of formality 
seems to guard the persorrs of those great ladies. One 
imagines that one could understand their faces better, 
were they translated into human nature. 

In the old palace, which has now rather a deserted 
and denuded aspect, we still found traces of former 
splendor. Among these, I remember a state bed with 
a covering so heavily embroidered with gold, that eight 
men are requisite to lift it. The valet de place aston- 
ished us with the price of this article ; but having for- 
gotten his statement, I cannot astonish any one with it. 
Of greater interest was a room, whose walls bore every- 
where small brackets, supporting costly pieces of por- 
celain, cups, jlacons, and statuettes. Beyond this was a 
boudoir, whose vermilion sides were nearly covered by 
miniature paintings, set into them. Many of these 
miniatures were of great beauty and value. Clearly the 
tastes of the Bavarian family were always of the most 
expensive. They looked after the flower garden, and 
allowed the kitchen garden to take care of itself. Of 
this sort was the farming of Otho and Amalia. But 
peace be to them. Otho is just dead of measles, Ama- 
lia nearly dead of vexations. 

Our two days allowed us little time for the churches 
of Munich. The Frauenkirche has many antiquities 
more interesting than its splendid restorations. On one 



MUNICH. 283 

of its altars I found the inscription, " Holy mother Ann, 
pray for us." I suppose that ever since the dogma of 
the immaculate conception has become part of church 
discipline, the sacred person just mentioned has found 
her clientele much enlarged. The new Basilica is quite 
gorgeous in its adornments, but I have preserved no 
minutes of them. 

We had the satisfaction of seeing a number of 
Kaulbach's drawings, among which were his Goethe 
and Schiller series, very fine and full of interest. 

One of the last of these represents Tell stepping from 
Gessier's boat at the critical moment described in Schil- 
ler's drama. One of the newest to me was a figure of 
Ottilie, from the Wahlverwandtschaften, hanging with 
mingled horror and affection over the innocent babe of 
the story. The intense distress of the young girl's coun- 
tenance contrasts strongly with the reposeful attitude 
of the little one. It made me ponder this ingenious and 
laboriously achieved distress. The very exuberance of 
Goethe's temperament, I must think, caused him to seek 
his sorrows in regions quite remote from common dis- 
aster. The miseries of his personages (vide Werther 
and the Wahlverwandtschaften) are far-fetched ; and 
the alchemy by which he turns wholesome life into sen- 
timental anguish brings to light no life-treasure more 
substantial than the fairy gold which genius is bound 
to convert into value more solid. 

And this was all of Munich, a place of polite tastes 
surely, in which life must flow on, adorned with many 
pleasantnesses. Neither would business seem to be 



284 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

deficient, judging from the handsome shops and general 
air of prosperity. Our view of its resources was cer- 
tainly most cursory. But life is the richer even for 
adjourned pleasures, and we shall never think of Munich 
without desiring its better acquaintance. 

* Switzerland. 

Travelling in Switzerland is now become so common 
and conventional as to invite little comment, except from 
those who remain in the country long enough to study 
out scientific and social questions, which the hasty trav- 
eller has not time to entertain in even the most cursory 
matter. I confess, for one, that I was content to be 
enchanted with the wonderful beauty which feasts the 
eye without intermission. I was willing to believe that 
the mountains had done for this people all that they 
should have done, giving them political immunities, and 
a sort of necessary independence, while the hardships 
of climate and situation keep stringent the social bond, 
and temper the fierceness of individuality with the sense 
of mutual need and protection. It would be, I think, 
an instructive study for an American to become inti- 
mately acquainted with the domestic features of Swiss 
republicanism. It is undoubtedly a system less lax and 
more carefully administered than our own. The door 
is not thrown open for beggary, ignorance, and rascality 
to vote themselves, in the shape of their representatives, 
the first places in outward dignity and efficient power. 
The old traditions of breeding and education are care- 
fully held to. Without the nonsense of aristocratic 



SWITZERLAND. 285 

absolutism, there is yet no confusion of orders. The 
mistress is mistress, and. the maid is maid. Wealth and 
landed property persevere in families. Great changes 
of position without great talents are rare. 

To our American pretensions, and to our brilliant 
style of manoeuvring, the Swiss mode of life would 
appear a very slow business. It seems rather to develop 
a high mediocrity than an array of startling superiori- 
ties. It has, moreover, no room for daring theories 
and experiments. It cannot afford a Mormon corner, a 
woman' s-rights platform, an endless intricacy of specu- 
lating and swindling rings. Whether we can afford 
these things, future generations will determine. There 
is a great deal of moral and political fancy-work done 
in America which another age may put out of sight 
to make room for necessary scrubbing, sweeping, and 
getting rid of vermin. Meantime the poor present 
age works, and deceives, and dawdles, hoping to be 
dismissed with the absolving edict, " She hath done 
what she could." 

Hotels, railways, and depots in Switzerland are com- 
fortable, and managed with great order and system. 
The telegraph arrangements are admirable, cheap, and 
punctual, as they might be here, if they were adminis- 
tered for the people's interest, and not for the aggran- 
dizement of private fortunes. Living and comfort are 
expensive to the traveller, not exorbitant. Subordi- 
nates neither insult nor cringe. Churches are well filled ; 
intelligent and intelligible doctrine is preached. Edu- 
cation is valued, and liberal provision is made for those 



286 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

classes in which natural disability calls for special modes 
of instruction. I dare not go more into generals, from 
my very limited opportunity of observation. Every- 
thing, however, in the aspect of town and country, leads 
one to suppose that the average of crime must be a low 
one, and that the preventing influences — so much more 
efficient than remedial measures — have long been at 
work. It is Protestant Switzerland which makes this 
impression most strongly. In the Catholic cantons, beg- 
gary exists and is tolerated as a thing of course ; yet the 
Protestant element has everywhere its representation and 
its influence. 

Swiss Catholicism has not the slavish ignorance of 
Roman Catholicism. The little painted crucifixes by the 
wayside indeed afflict one by their impotence and insig- 
nificance. Not thus shall Christ be recognized in these 
days. In some places their frequency reminded me of 
the recurrence of the pattern on a calico or a wall 
paper. Yet, as a whole, one feels that Switzerland is 
a Protestant power. 

For specials, I must have recourse to the insufficient 
pages of the diary, which give the following : — 

August 13. Museum at Zurich. Lacustrine re- 
mains, in stone, flint, and bronze ; fragments of the old 
piles, cut with stone knives. Hand-mill for corn, con- 
sisting of a hollow stone and a round one, concave and 
convex. Toilet ornaments, in bone and bronze ; a few 
in gold. — The Libraiy, Lady Jane Grey's letters, three 
in number ; Zwingle's Greek Bible. — The Armory. 
Zwingle's helmet and battle-axe ; three suits of female 



SWITZERLAND. 287 

armor ; curious shields, cannon, pikes, and every va- 
riety of personal defence. 

August 14. Left Zurich at half past six A. M. for 
Lucerne, reaching the latter place at half past eight. 
Visited Thorwaldsen's lion, whose majestic presence I 
had not forgotten in twenty-three years. Yet the Swiss 
hireling under foreign pay is a mischievous institution. 
At two P. M. took the boat for Hergeswyl, intending to 
ascend from that point the Mount Pilatus. At half past 
three began this ascension. The road is very fine, and 
my leader was excellent ; yet I had some uncomfortable 
moments in the latter part of the ascent, which was in 
zigzag, and very steep. Each horse cost ten francs, and 
each leader was to have a trink-geld besides. We 
stopped very gladly at the earliest reached of the two ho- 
tels which render habitable the heights of the mountain. 
We learned too late that it would have been better to pro- 
ceed at once to that which stands nearly on the summit. 
We should thus have gained time for the great spectacle 
of the sunrise on the following morning. Our view of 
the sunset, too, would have been more extended. Yet 
we were well content with it. Near the hotel was a 
very small Catholic chapel, through whose painted win- 
dows we tried to peep. A herd of goats feeding near 
by made music with their tinkling bells. Swiss sounds 
are as individual as Swiss sights. Voices, horns, bells, 
all have their peculiar ring in these high atmospheres. 

We lay down at night with the intention of rising at a 
quarter of four next morning, in order to witness the, sun- 
rise from the highest point of the mountain. Mistaking 



288 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

some sounds which disturbed my slumbers for the 
guide's summons, I sprang out of bed, and having no 
match, made a hasty toilet in the dark, and then ran to 
arouse my companions. One of these, fortunately, was 
able to strike a light and look at his watch. It was just 
twelve, and my zeal and energy had been misdirected. 
When I again awoke, it was at four A. M., already 
rather late for our purpose. We dressed hastily, and 
vehemently started on the upward zigzag. As the guide 
had not yet appeared, I carried our night bundle, but for 
which I should have kept the lead of the party. Small 
as was its weight, I felt it sensibly in this painful ascent, 
and was thankful to relinquish it when the tardy guide 
came up with us. In spite of his aid, I was much dis- 
tressed for breath, and suffered from a thirst surpassing 
that of fever. My ears also ached exceedingly in con- 
sequence of the rarefaction of the atmosphere. The 
last effort of the ascent was made upon a ladder pitched 
at such an angle that one could climb it only on hands 
and knees. We reached the last peak a little late for 
the sunrise, but enjoyed a near and magnificent view of 
the snow Alps. The diary contains no description of 
this prospect. I can only remember that its coloring 
and extent were wonderful. But a day of fatigue was 
still before us. Breakfasting at six o'clock, we soon 
commenced the painful downward journey. No "fa- 
cilis descensus" was this, but a climbing down which 
lasted three full hours. We had kept but one horse for 
this part of our journey, but this was such an uncertain 
and stumbling beast that we gladly surrendered him to 



SWITZERLAND. 289 

our chief, who, in spite of this assistance, was found 
more than once lying on a log, assuring us that his end 
was at hand. We had little breath to spare for his con- 
solation, but gave him a silent and aching sympathy. 
A pleasant party of English girls left the hotel when we 
did, one on horseback and three on foot. The hardships 
of the way brought us together. I can still recall the 
ring of their voices, and the freshness and sparkle of 
their faces, which really encouraged my efforts. The 
pleasures of this descent were as intense as its pains. 
The brilliant grass was enamelled with wild flowers, ex- 
quisite in color and fragrance. The mountain air was 
bracing and delightful, the details of tree and stream most 
picturesque. For some reason, which I now forget, 
we stopped but little to take rest. At a small chalet 
half way down, we enjoyed a glass of beer, and were 
waited upon by a maiden in white sleeves and black 
bodice, her fair hair being braided with a strip of white 
linen, and secured in its place by a large pin with an 
ornamented head. We reached Alpenach in a state of 
body and of wardrobe scarcely describable. But our 
minds at least were at ease. We had done something to 
make a note of. We had been to the top of Mons 
Pilatus. 

Of Interlaken the diary preserves nothing worth 
transcribing. The great beauty of the scenery made us 
reluctant to leave it after a few hours of enjoyment. 
The appalling fashionable and watering-place aspect of 
the streets and hotels, on the other hand, rendered it un- 
congenial to quiet travellers, whose strength did not lie in 

IQ 



29O FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

the clothes line. Our brief stay showed us the greatest 
mixture and variety of people ; the hotels were splendid 
with showy costumes, the shops tempting with onyx, am- 
ethyst, and crystal ornaments. We saw here also a great 
display of carvings in wood. The unpaved streets were 
gay with equipages and donkey parties. A sousing rain 
soon made confusion among them, and reconciled us to 
a speedy departure. 

Of Berne and Fribourg I will chronicle only the 
organ concerts, given to exhibit the resources of two 
famous instruments. At both places we found the or- 
gan very fine, and the musical performance very trashy. 
No real organ music was given on either occasion, the 
piece de resistance being an imitation of a thunder- 
storm. Both instruments seemed to me to surpass our 
own great organ in beauty and variety of tone. The 
larger proportions of the buildings in which they are 
heard may contribute to this result. Both of these are 
cathedrals^ with fine vaulted roofs and long aisles, very 
different from the essentially civic character of the music 
hall, whose compact squareness cannot deal with the 
immense volume of sound thrown upon its hands by the 
present overgrown in cum — bent. 

The Great Exposition. 

It would be unfair to American journalism not to sup- 
pose that all possible information concerning the Great 
Exposition has already been given to the great republic. 
There have doubtless been quires upon quires of bril- 
liant writing devoted to that absorbing theme. Columns 



THE GREAT EXPOSITION. 29 1 

from the most authentic sources have been commanded 
and paid for. American writing is rich in epithets, and 
we may suppose that all the adjective splendors have 
been put in requisition to aid imagination to take the 
place of sight. Yet, as the diversities of landscape 
painting show the different views which may be taken 
of one nature, even so the view taken by my sober in- 
strument may possibly show something that has escaped 
another. 

I here refer to the pages of my oft-quoted diary. But 
alas ! the wretch deserts me in the hour of my greatest 
need. I find a record of my first visit only, and that 
couched in one prosaic phrase as follows : Exposition — 
valet, six francs. 

Now, I am not a Cuvier, to reconstruct a whole ani- 
mal from a single fossil bone ; nor am I a German his- 
torian, to present the picture of a period by inventing 
the opposite of its records. Yet what I can report of 
this great feature of the summer must take as its start- 
ing-point this phrase : Exposition — valet, six francs. 

This extravagant attendance was secured by us on the 
occasion of our first visit, when, passing inside the nar- 
row turnstile, with ready change and eager mind, w T e 
encountered the great reality we had to deal with, and 
felt, to our dismay, that spirit would help us little, and 
that flesh and blood, eyes and muscles, must do their 
utmost, and begin by acknowledging a defeat. Looking 
on the diverse paths, and flags and buildings, we sought 
an Ariadne, and found at least a guide whom Bacchus 
might console. Escorted by him, we entered the first 



292 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

great hall, with massive machines partially displayed on 
one side. A coup d'oeil was what we sought on this 
occasion, and our movements were rapid. The Sevre 
porcelains, the magnificent French and English glasses, 
the weighty majolicas, the Gobelin tapestries, and the 
galleries of paintings, chiefly consumed our six francs, 
which represented some three hours. Magnificent ser- 
vices of plate, some in silver, and some in imitation of 
silver, were shown to us. In another place the close 
clustering of men and women around certain glass 
cases made us suspect the attraction of jewelry, which 
may be ealled the sugar-plummery of aesthetics. Insin- 
uating ourselves among the human bees, we, too, fed 
our eyes on these sweets. Diadems, necklaces, earrings, 
sufficient, in the hands of a skilful Satan, to accomplish 
the damnation of the whole female sex, were here 
displayed. I was glad to see these dangerous imple- 
ments of temptation restrained within cases of solid 
glass. I myself would fain have written upon them, 
" Deadly poison." There are enough, however, to 
preach, and I practised by running off from these disput- 
ed neighborhoods, and passing to the contemplation of 
treasures which to see is to have. 

Among the Gobelins I was amazed to see a fine 
presentation of Titian's Sacred and Profane Love, a pic- 
ture of universal reputation. The difficulty of copying 
so old and so perfect a work in tapestry made this suc- 
cess a very remarkable one. Very beautiful, too, was 
their copy of Guido's Aurora, and yet less difficult than 



THE GREAT EXPSOITION. 293 

the other, the coloring being at once less subtile and 
more brilliant. 

I remember a gigantic pyramid of glass, which arose, 
like a frost-stricken fountain, in the middle of the Eng- 
lish china and glass department. I remember huge 
vases, cups as thin as egg-shell, pellucid crystals in all 
shapes, a glory of hard materials and tender colors. 
And I remember a department of raw material, fibres, 
minerals, germs, and grains, and a department of East- 
ern confectionery, and one of Algerine small work, to 
wit, jewelry and embroidery. An American soda foun- 
tain caused us to tingle with renewed associations. And 
we hear, with shamefaced satisfaction, that American 
drinks have proved a feature in this great phenome- 
non. Machines have, of course, been creditable to us. 
Chickering and Steinway have carried off prizes in a 
piano-forte tilt, each grudging the other his share of the 
common victory. And our veteran's maps for the blind 
have received a silver medal. Tiffany, the New York 
jeweller, presents a good silver miniature of Crawford's 
beautiful America. And with these successes our patri- 
otism must now be content. We are not ahead of all 
creation, so far as the Exposition is concerned, and the 
things that do us most credit must be seen and studied 
in our midst. 

Our longest lingerings in the halls of the Exposition 
were among the galleries of art. Among these the 
French pictures were preeminent in interest. The 
group of Jerome's paintings were the most striking of 
their kind, uniting finish with intensity, and both with 



294 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

ease. In his choice of subjects, Jerome is not a Puri- 
tan. The much admired Almee is a picture of low 
scope, excusable only as an historic representation. 
The judgment of Phryne will not commend itself 
more to maids and matrons who love their limits. Both 
pictures, however, are powerfully conceived and colored. 
The " Ave Cesar " of the morituri before Vitellius is 
better inspired, if less well executed, and holds the mir- 
ror close in the cruel face of absolute power. 

Study of the Italian masters was clearly visible in 
many of the best works of the French gallery. I recall 
a fine triptych representing the story of the prodigal 
son, in which the chief picture spoke plainly of Paul 
Veronese, and his Venetian life and coloring. In this 
picture the prodigal appeared as the lavish entertainer 
of gay company. A banquet, shared by joyous hetairce, 
occupied the canvas. A slender compartment on the 
right showed the second act of the drama — hunger, 
swine-feeding, and repentance. A similar one on the 
left gave the pleasanter denouement — the return, the wel- 
come, the feast of forgiveness. Both of the latter sub- 
jects were treated in chiaroscuro, a manner that height- 
ened the contrast between the flush of pleasure and 
the pallor of its consequences. Rosa Bonheur's part 
in the Exposition was scarcely equal to her reputation. 
One charming picture of a boat-load of sheep crossing 
a Highland loch still dwells in my memory like a lim- 
pid sapphire, so lovely was the color of the water. The 
Russian, Swedish, and Danish pictures surprised me by 
their good points. If we may judge of Russian art by 



THE GREAT EXPOSITION. 295 

these specimens, it is not behind the European standard 
of attainment. Of the Bavarian gallery, rich in works 
of interest, I can here mention but two. The first must 
be a very large and magnificent cartoon by Kaulbach, 
representing a fancied assemblage of illustrious person- 
ages at the period of the Reformation. Luther, Eras- 
mus, and Melanchthon were prominent among these, the 
whole belonging to a large style of historical compo- 
sition. 

The second w T as already familiar to us through a pho- 
tograph seen and admired in Munich. It is called Ste. 
Julie, and represents a young Christian martyr, dead 
upon the cross, at whose foot a young man is depositing 
an offering of flowers. The pale beauty and repose of 
the figure, the massive hair and lovely head, the mod- 
esty of attitude and attire, arc very striking. The sky 
is subdued, clear, and gray, the black hair standing out 
powerfully against it. The whole palette seems to have 
been set with pure and pearly tints. One thinks the 
brushes that painted this fair dove could never paint a 
courtesan. A single star, the first of evening, breaks 
the continuity of the twilight sky. This picture seemed 
as if it should make those w T ho look at it thenceforward 
more tender, and more devout. Among the English 
pictures, the Enemy sowing Tares, by Millais, was par- 
ticularly original — a malignant sky, full of blight and 
destruction, and a malignant wretch, smiling at mischief, 
and scowling at good, — a powerful figure, mighty and 
mean. This picture makes one start and shudder; 
such must have been its intention, and such is its success. 



296 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

Among sculptures, the most conspicuous was one 
called the Last Hour of Napoleon — a figure in an in- 
valid's chair, with drooping head and worn countenance, 
the map of the globe lying spread upon his passive 
knees. Every trait already says, " This was Napoleon," 
the man of modern times who longest survived himself, 
who was dead and could not expire. Wreaths of im- 
mortelles always lay at the foot of this statue. It is the 
work of an Italian artist, and the only sculpture in the 
whole exhibition which I can recall as easily and de- 
servedly remembered. 

Our American part in the art-exhibition was not 
great. William Hunt's pictures were badly placed, and 
not grouped, as they should have been, to give an ade- 
quate idea of the variety of his merits. Bierstadt's 
Rocky Mountains looked thin in coloring, and showed 
a want of design. Church's Niagara was effective. 
Johnston's Old Kentucky Home was excellent in its 
kind, and characteristic. Kensett had a good land- 
scape. But America has still more to learn than to 
teach in the w 7 ay of high art. Success among us is too 
cheap and easy. Art-critics are wordy and ignorant, 
praising from caprice rather than from conscience. It 
w r ould be most important for us to form at least one 
gallery of art in which American artists might study 
something better than themselves. The presence of 
twenty first-rate pictures in one of our great cities 
would save a great deal of going abroad, and help to 
form a sincere and intelligent standard of aesthetic judg- 
ment. Such pictures should, of course, be constantly 



THE GREAT EXPOSITION. 297 

open to the public, as no private collection can well be. 
We should have a Titian, a Rubens, an Andrea, a Paul 
Veronese, and so on. But these pictures should be of 
historical authenticity. The most responsible artists of 
the country should be empowered to negotiate for them, 
and the money might be afforded from the heavy gains 
of late years with far more honor and profit than the 
superfluous splendors with which the fortunate of this 
period bedizen their houses and their persons. 

Among American sculptures I may mention a pleasing 
medallion or two by Miss Foley. Miss Hosmer's Faun 
is a near relative in descent from the Barberini Faun, 
and, however good in execution, has little originality of 
conception. And these things I say, Beloved, in the bo- 
som of our American family, because I think they ought 
to be said, and not out of pride or fancied superiority. 

I am ashamed to say that I have already told the 
little I am able to tell of the Exposition as seen b}' 
daylight — the little, at least, that every one else has 
not told. But I visited the enclosure once in the even- 
ing, when only the cafes were open. Among these I 
sought a beer-shop characterized as the Bavarian brew- 
ery, and sought it long and with trouble ; for the long, 
winding paths showed us, one after the other, many 
agglomerations of light, which were obviously places 
of public entertainment, and in each of which we ex- 
pected to find our Bavarian brewery, famous for the 
musical performances of certain gypsies much spoken 
of in Parisian circles. In the pursuit of this we entered 
half a dozen buildings, in each of which some charac- 



298 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

teristic entertainment was proceeding. Coming finally 
to the object of our search, we found it a plain room 
with small tables, half filled with visitors. Opposite 
the entrance was a small orchestral stage, on which 
were seated the wild musicians whom we sought. A 
franc each person was the entrance fee, and we were 
scarcely seated before a functionary authoritatively in- 
vited us to command some refreshment, in a tone which 
was itself the order of the day. In obedience, one 
ordered beer, another gloria, a third cigars — all at 
extortionate prices. But then the music was given for 
nothing, and must be paid for somehow. And it proved 
worth paying for. At first the body of sound seemed 
overpowering, for there was no pianissimo, and not one 
of the regular orchestral effects. A weird-looking leader 
in high boots stood and fiddled, holding his violin now 
on a level with his eyes, now with his nose, now with 
his stomach, writhing and swaying with excitement, his 
excitable troupe following the ups and downs of his 
movement like a track of gaunt hounds dashing after 
a spectre. The cafe gradually filled, and orders were 
asked and given. But little disturbance did these give 
either to the band or its hearers. They played various 
wild airs and symphonies (not technical ones), being 
partially advised therein by an elegant male personage 
who sat leaning his head upon his jewelled hand, ab- 
sorbed in attention. These melodies were obviously 
compositions of the most eccentric and accidental sort. 
Not thus do great or small harmonists mate their tones 
and arch their passages. But there was a vivacity and 



PICTURES IN ANTWERP. 299 

a passion in all that these men did which made every 
bar seem full of electric fire; and these must be, I 
thought, traditional vestiges of another time, when 
music was not yet an art, but only nature. Here 
Dwight's Journal has no power. Beethoven or Han- 
del may do as he likes; these do as they please, also. 
This is the heathendom of art, in which feeling is all, 
authority nothing ; in which rules are only suspected, 
not created. After an hour or more of this entertain- 
ment, we left it, not unwillingly, being a little weary 
of its labyrinthine character and unmoderated ecstasy. 
Yet we left it much impressed with the musical material 
presented in it. Our civilized orchestras have no such 
enthusiasts as that nervous leader, with his leaping vio- 
lin and restraining high boots. And this, with the 
lights and shadows, and broken music of the outside 
walks, is all that I saw of evening at the Exposition. 

Pictures in Antwerp. 

As you cannot, with rare exceptions, see Raphael 
out of Italy, so, I should almost say, you cannot see 
Rubens and Vandyck out of Belgium. This is espe- 
cially true of the former ; for one does, I confess, see 
marvellous portraits of Vandyck's in Genoa and in 
other places. But one judges a painter best by seeing 
a group of his best works, which show his sphere of 
thought with some completeness. A single sentence 
sufhces to show the great poet ; but no one will assume 
that a sentence will give you to know as much of 
him as a poem or volume. So the detached sentences 



300 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

of the two great Flemish painters, easily met with in 
European galleries, bear genuine evidence of the mas- 
ter's hand ; but the collections of Antwerp and Bruges 
show us the master himself. Intending no disrespect 
to Florence, Munich, or the Medicean series at the 
Louvre, I must say that I had no just measure of the 
dignity of Rubens as a man and as an artist, until I 
stood before his two great pictures in the Cathedral of 
Antwerp. One of these represents the Elevation of the 
Cross. Mathematically it offends one — the cross, the 
principal object in the picture, being seen diagonally, 
in an uneasy and awkward posture. On the other 
hand, the face of the Christ corresponds fully to the 
heroism of the moment ; it expresses the human horror 
and agony, but, triumphing over all, the steadfastness 
of resolve and faith. It is a transfiguration — the spirit- 
ual glory holding its own above all circumstances of 
pain and infamy. A sort of beautiful surprise is in the 
eyes — the first deadly pang of an organism unused to 
suffer. It is a face that lifts one above the weakness 
and meanness of ordinary human life. This soul, one 
sees, had the true talisman, the true treasure. If we 
earn what he did, we can afford to let all else go. The 
Descent from the Cross is better known than its fellow- 
picture. It had not to me the wonderful interest of the 
living face of Christ in the supreme moment of his 
great life ; for I shall always consider that the Christ 
represented in the Elevation is a true Christ, not a mere 
fancy figure or dramatic ghost. The Descent is, how- 
ever, more grand and satisfactory in its grouping, and 



PICTURES IN ANTWERP. 30I 

the contrast between the agony of the friendly faces 
that surround the chief figure and the dead peace of 
his expression and attitude is profound and pathetic. 
The head and body fall heavily upon the arms of those 
who support it, and w r ho seem to bear an inward weight 
far transcending the outward one.^ The pale face of the 
Virgin is stricken and compressed with sorrow. Each 
of the pictures is the centre of a triptych, the two smaller 
paintings representing subjects in harmony with the 
chief groups. On the right of the Descent we have 
Mary making her historical visit to the house of Elisa- 
beth ; on the left, the presentation of the infant Christ 
in the temple. On the right of the Elevation is a group 
of those daughters of Jerusalem to whom Christ said, 
"Weep not for me." The subject on the left is less 
significant. 

With these pictures deserves to rank the Flagellation 
of Christ, by the same artist, in the Church of St. Paul. 
The resplendent fairness of the body, the cruel reality 
of the bleeding which follows the scourge, and the ex- 
pression of genuine but noble suffering, seize upon the 
very quick of sympathy, weakened by mythicism and 
sentimentalism. This fair body, sensitive as yours or 
mine, endured bitter and agonizing blows. This great 
heart was content to endure them as the penalty of be- 
queathing to mankind its priceless secret. 

The churches of Antwerp are rich in architecture, 
paintings, and marbles. In the latter the Church of St. 
Jacques excels, the high altar and side chapels being 
adorned with twisted columns of white marble, and with 



302 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

various sculptures. The Musee contains many pictures 
of great reputation and merit. Among these are a 
miniature painting of the Descent from the Cross, by 
Rubens himself, closely, but not wholly, corresponding 
with his great picture ; the Education of the Virgin, 
and the Vierge au Perroquet, both by Rubens, in his 
most brilliant style. Another composition represents 
St. Theresa imploring the Savior to release from pur- 
gatory the soul of a benefactor of her order. Rubens 
is said to have given to this benefactor the features of 
Vandyck, and to one of the angels releasing him those 
of his young wife, Helena Forman ; while the face of 
an old man still in suffering represents his own. 

This gallery contains three Vandycks of first-class 
merit, each of which will detain the attention of lovers 
of art. The one that first meets your eye is a Pieta, in 
which the body of Christ is stretched horizontally, his 
head lying on the lap of his mother. The strongest 
point of the picture is the Virgin's sorrow, expressed 
in her pallid face, eyes worn with weeping, and out- 
stretched hands. The second is a small crucifix, very 
harmonious and expressive. The third is a life-size 
picture of the crucifixion, with a very individual tone 
of color. The Virgin, at the foot of the cross, has great 
truth and dignity, but is rather a modern figure for the 
subject. But the pride of the whole collection is a 
unique triptych by Qiiintin Matsys, his greatest work, 
and one without which the extent of his power can 
never be realized. The central picture represents a 
dead Christ, surrounded bv the men and women who 



PICTURES IN ANTWERP. 303 

ministered to him, preparing him for sepulture. The 
right hand of the Christ lies half open, with a wonder- 
ful expression of acquiescence. The faces of those who 
surround him are full of intense interest and tenderness ; 
the Virgin's countenance expresses heart-break. The 
whole picture disposes you to weep, not from sentiment- 
alism, but from real sympathy. Of the side pieces, one 
represents the wicked women with the head of John the 
Baptist, the other the martyrdom of Ste. Barbe. Add 
to these some of the best Teniers, Ostades, Ruysdaels, 
and Vanderweldes, with many excellent works of second- 
class merit, and you will understand, as well as words 
can tell you, what treasures lie within the Musee of 
Antwerp. 

Copy is exhausted, say the printers. Perhaps pa- 
tience gave out first. My MS. is at end — not handsome- 
ly rounded off, nor even shortened, by a surgical ampu- 
tation, but broken at some point in which facts left no 
room for words. Observation became absorbing, and 
description was adjourned, as it now proves, forever. 
The few sentences which I shall add to what is already 
written will merely apologize for my sudden disappear- 
ance, lest the clown's " Here we are " should find a 
comic pendant in my " Here we are not." 

I have only to say that I have endeavored in good faith 
to set down this simple and hurried record of a journey 
crowded with interests and pleasures. I was afraid to 
receive so freely of these without attempting to give what 
I could in return, under the advantages and disadvan- 



304 FROM THE OAK TO THE OLIVE. 

tages of immediate transcription. In sketches executed 
upon the spot, one hopes that the vividness of the im- 
pression under which one labors may atone for the want 
of finish and of elaboration. If read at all, these notes 
may be called to account for many insufficiencies. Some 
pages may appear careless, some sentences Quixotic. 
I am still inclined to think that with more leisure and 
deliberation I should not have done the work as well. 
I should, perhaps, like Tintoretto, have occupied acres 
and acres of attention with superfluous delineation, 
putting, as he did, my own portrait in the corner. Re- 
joice, therefore, good reader, in my limitations. They 
are your enfranchisement. 

Touching Quixotism, I will plead guilty to the sound- 
ing of various parleys before some stately buildings 
and unshaken fortresses. " Who is this that blows 
so sharp a summons?" may the inmates ask. I may 
answer, " One who believes in the twelve legions of 
angels that wait upon the endeavors of faithful souls." 
Should they further threaten or deride, I will borrow 
Elizabeth Browning's sweet refrain, — 

" I am no trumpet, but a reed," — 

and trust not to become a broken one. 

Conscious of my many shortcomings, and asking at- 
tention only for the message I have tried to bring, I ask 
also for that charity which recognizes that good will is 
the best part of action, and good faith the first condi- 
tion of knowledge. 



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